


Underneath the stars we came alive

by Galacticspaceboi, Infernoism



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, Abuse, Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alphonse is cute, Corruption, Electrocution, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Fucked Up, Government Conspiracy, I am not a lawyer, I don’t know the legal system, Kidnapping, Long, M/M, Military, Mind Fuck, Mustang's Team, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Content, Sleep Deprivation, ed being ed, ed is my life, ed level cursing, electro torture, gruesome, hopefully, non linear narrative (in some parts), roy and ed are in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galacticspaceboi/pseuds/Galacticspaceboi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infernoism/pseuds/Infernoism
Summary: Something is wrong with the military.Ed has had his suspicions but when a group of high ranking officers show up and effectively kidnap him, he knows he was right all along.He just wishes he’d used his voice when he still had one.((((Also Ed and Roy are in love bc I love gayyyyys :) ))))))





	1. Somewhere down this road

**Author's Note:**

> Hello little burritos:)  
> This is our first fic and our writing style is basically...fucked?? Idk what it is but I can never get the specific feel/mood right when I’m writing shit so please excuse the annoying tone of this first chapter. Also sorry if you don’t ship RoyEd,,,,,W E D O like honestly it’s cute as fuck and whatever we wanted to combine a nice juicy plot with a classic cheesy love thingy so enjoy.  
> If it feels like it’s moving too fast, it probably is; if it feels like it’s moving too slow, it probably is lol sorriiiiii :) just enjoy this shit before I change my mind about posting it :) 
> 
> Ps——this is gonna be a long one. We’ve planned for at least 100K but that’s optimistic considering we’re both lazy as shit, so bare with us. :) xoxo

"Who you calling a pint-sized runt so little that you need an electron microscope just to see him?!"

"I didn't say that, Fullmetal," Mustang said in a disgustingly smug voice, arrogance practically dripping off him as he sat behind his desk with his hands clasped under his chin, signature cocky smile painted on his face as he gave a small chuckle. God _damn_ him.

Ed bared his teeth, not really that angry really; Mustang had said the comment in good humour but the alchemist only saw it fit to react in such a hyperbolic way. For old times’ sake. In any case, he was just happy that the colonel was talking to him; they'd been sort of dancing around each other as of late, conversations and eye contact was awkward as _fuck_ and whenever Roy caught him staring at him Ed would turn and flush embarrassingly, like he'd been caught doing something bad. And he wasn't, it's just that Mustang's fucking hair was so dark and smooth and always managed to look perfectly messy and the many expressions Ed had become so familiar with made something warm and frighteningly new coil in the pit of his stomach.

"Brother, you're not even that short anymore. You're just extremely sensitive," Alphonse's sweet, pragmatic voice cut through Ed's dangerously out of control thoughts and he shut his eyes quickly, as if that motion alone was enough to clear the slate of Ed's brain from Roy fucking Mustang. "He...you're both still implying that I'm short! He still said it and the fact that I'm most decidedly normal sized isn't enough to...to-" Oh _fuck_ , Roy was looking at him now, dark eyes swarming with emotions as his face brightened into a smile, but there was a malicious edge to it.

"Normal sized, Edward? No, you're tiny. You were right about that electron microscope. Too bad just one of those things is worth more than you or me." Ed grew stiff, his expression hardening. " _You_ -"

But then Roy was laughing, genuine and unguarded and deep in his chest, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and Ed jerked back at the foreign sound in surprise. His cheeks felt suddenly warmer and there was an irrational ache in his chest just watching Mustang laugh - at him - and it was not good for his heart. Nor was it good for his ego.

"Just...shut up." He mumbled, fire suddenly gone from his voice as he looked away from the glorious sight that was the carefree chortle of Roy Mustang.

"You always snap at the same tricks, Fullmetal. Just like old times,"

Although it was said in a convincing tone of voice, Ed had known the Colonel long enough to recognise the hint of melancholy, the bittersweet, nostalgic twist to his words. Again, his heart squeezed in his chest as he forced himself to look nonchalant. His own tongue felt clumsy and heavy in his mouth as he weighed out a reply, stuck on which words to use to maintain the carefree banter but ultimately let Mustang know that he missed the old times too. Lately, things were just not _right_ and sometimes he felt as if he was the only one in the whole of Amestris who thought something was sour. But now it seemed that Roy was on the same page? Perhaps. Maybe Ed was just reaching because he felt so alone in his thoughts, the kind that evoked nightmares and caused panic attacks and something wasn't right these days and there's always someone _watching_ and-

"He's right. You haven't changed at all, brother. You'd think turning 18 would make you more...adult-like?" Again, Alphonse. His dear brother seemed to have the knack for sensing when he was about to snap, become lost in the sea of crippling thoughts which threatened to drown him whenever he let his barrier down. He smiled weakly at Al and gave a shaky exhale.

"I dunno Al. You're a pretty immature 17 year-old. What kind of boy your age still plays with _kittens_?" Alphonse flushed adorably and Ed felt a surge of brotherly love and protection flood through his veins, thick and intense like adrenaline but something stronger, more volatile; he would do anything to keep his brother safe. "Don't turn this on me, Ed. Petting cute little kittens is a healthy way to reveal ones stress. Mei even said so. And with the amount of stress you put me through-"

"Oh, sure, _I'm_ the cause. You know Al, worrying about whether your little brother has taken his multivitamins or not because he downright refuses can be pretty stressful."

" _Brother_ , they taste awful! I'd like to see you try and take one. With a glass of milk!" He added as an afterthought. "Cheek! Respect your elders, Alphonse," Al's smile mirrored his own and they shared a quiet moment, and Ed was just vaguely aware of Mustang watching the entire exchange as if they were slides on a microscope. He'd drowned it out for the most part and just let himself talk with this younger brother, his best friend, without feeling like he had to impress the stupid fucking colonel.

He turned back to the report in his hands, eyes looking but not really seeing because the only thing he could think about was the fact that Mustang was _still_ looking at him, despite the fact that no one had said a word for at least 2 minutes. He felt insecurity stab itself through his heart as Mustang's calculating, unreadable stare picked him apart. After another minute of fidgeting, he turned to meet the colonel with a glare.

"What?" Roy had the decency to look surprised and a flash of something else entirely flickered through his eyes for a split second before his eyes locked in their natural teasing smirk. "Seriously Mustang, _what_? Is there something in my hair? Is that why you're-"

he tailed off, reaching behind to grab hold of his braid and run a hand through it, not missing the way Roy's eyes followed his movements. "No, nothing like that, I just thought maybe if you'd sit down you'd be a whole lot more productive. Maybe then we can finally finish all these reports and Hawkeye won't have to cremate my dead body." Ed bristled.

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe if you weren’t fucking staring at me you'd be a whole lot more productive you-" And then-

Three loud raps on the door.

Silence.

Heart beating in his throat.

Silence.

Sweat beading on his forehead.

 _Silence_.

It wasn't any of Roy's crew. They always announced themselves after two brisk knocks. It was never three. _Never_. Ten thirty in the evening, when almost all of central command was silent and dormant, who could be knocking? Why were they not addressing themselves?

It was a subtle enough difference but immediately Ed could see that Alphonse and the colonel were thinking the same thing. Al had straightened out, breathing deep and slow to minimise noise and risk of hyperventilation and Mustang had hardened his posture from his fluid pose into the firm military stance in seconds. All three shared a look, waiting. Silence. The door opening was the loudest thing Ed had ever heard in his life. It grated on his ears and made him grit his teeth as figures emerged from the dark of the hallway into Mustang's dimly lit office. They wore the Military uniform. All four of them, and their stars outranked even Mustang. Ed took a long gulp, trying to steady his nerves, but suddenly they were striding across the room towards him, boots stamping on the ground and jarring Ed's brain even more.

They grabbed his arm first, his automail yanked far away from his body by an arm the size of his torso. He let out a small noise of surprise and was faintly aware of both Al and Roy calling his name, before his other arm was captured by another man. It seemed like hours before anyone spoke, but it must of been seconds because when he looked again Mustang was getting up with a fiercely protective glint in his eyes and Al had determination set on his face.

"Edward Elric, you are under arrest for the suspicion of working with the criminal named Father. You have the right to remain-"

"Wh-Father's dead.. _I sent_ _him back_ -" His sentence was cut off as a sharp spark of pain shot through his flesh arm. The man, a great gorilla of a human, tugged at it painfully, the intensity of it causing Ed's knees to buckle.

"Brother--!"

He heard the shot before he saw it. The bullet ripped through the air in slow motion, tearing apart the atoms of oxygen and nitrogen in its wake and - _hitting Alphonse in the shoulder._

Hitting his perfect baby brother Alphonse, who was still weak because despite being free of the armour for a few years still wasn't used to _pain_ as much and the look of agony on his face when he grasped his shoulder, hitting the floor, was one that would haunt Ed.

"Alphonse!" And then Mustang was at his side, tearing off his jacket and pressing it to his brother's wound while Ed dangled in the air, his entire weight being held up by the strong grip on his arms. It was excruciating and he couldn't get his feet under himself, his breathing laboured as he helplessly watched Alphonse _cry_ out in pain and shake with the force of it and what was happening? Hadn't they just been talking? All three of them, less than five minutes ago?

What was going on, what were they _talking_ about--

Oh. They'd come for him. They knew. A calm sense of recognition washed over him as he exhaled deeply. He forced his muscles to relax to relieve the tension on his strained shoulders as he bravely caught Roy's eyes.

 _Don't come any closer. They'll shoot you too, bastard. Take care of Alphonse. I'm sorry_.

Roy's eyes were steely, the same expression he used when any of his comrades were in danger, the same expression he'd worn when he'd revealed that Hughes had 'resigned'. It was an attempt at detaching himself from the situation to help himself think more clearly. Maybe he and the colonel weren't so different after all.

"Tell me what this is about, Brigadier General sir." Roy's voice bravely sliced through the otherwise silent room. He spared a glance for Alphonse, his brother's teary eyes pulling at his heart. A burning fury sparked in his chest. How _dare_ they-? He should be fighting, for Al's honour but -

He couldn't. He had so play this safe. Al would kill him if he died, he thought, and so launching into an attack was probably not the most sensible option. Especially since he was dangling several inches above the ground and couldn't move his arms.

"Colonel Mustang. No questions please," And the fire in Roy's eyes- it sparked and ignited, anger pooling in the flames as he growled.

"Tell me why you're arresting Fullmetal! He's right, Father has been dead for 2 years! You just _shot_ a young boy-!"

"Stand _down_ Mustang." The voice held finality in it, with no room for negotiation and Ed caught Roy's eyes.

_Stop. You'll get yourself killed._

Ed's breath was ragged in the quiet room, as he hung there, like a fucking stuffed doll but he _couldn’t do anything_.

 _No, don't come near me. Leave this to me_. 

When Mustang's eyes crinkled at the edges his heart fucking _ached_ , it took all of Ed's willpower to control his thriving instincts and refrain from fighting to his last breath, tearing and biting and scratching at everyone and anything to just get out.

When Ed did nothing except swallow the growing thickness in his burning throat, Mustang's face turned cold, whatever colour was left drained away. The Colonel didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand. Ed watched the fleeting emotions flickering across his face, worry melding to concern. The concern watered down to something else, an unrecognizable emotion glaring through the pools of Mustang's eyes.

Ed stared, unblinking. Unmoving. Was that... Betrayal? No, that’s not what - he wasn't _guilty_ , it was a misunderstanding and now Mustang thought the things these assholes were accusing him of were _true_ -

"Brother! Why aren't you fighting back?!” A shrill cry broke the two males out of their thoughtful stupor. Ed blinked, the motion bringing him back into reality. His eyes travelled south, away from the Colonel’s grim face and slid to the squirming figure shifting on the floor. His baby brother was _sobbing_ , desperately trying and failing to hold back tears.

_Not Al. Please._

Edward’s eyes widened as he laid his gaze on Alphonse’s weeping wound. The captive’s lips parted, ready to scream, but he couldn’t. He chose instead to swallow his words and bite back the hatred festering on the tip of his tongue. Movement caught his watery gaze as Mustang raised his arms. The uniform clad man reached over the younger blonde’s shivering form and gently lifted him up from the floor, pressing Al to his chest; the man’s protective nature shone through.

The unexpected action made the boy grit his teeth and wince in obvious pain. Al shook his hanging head as a few tell tale drops of saltine water fell from his chin; the expression of his eyes was intense and caused Ed to bite his lower lip. He turned his head away from his brother and stared at his feet, guilt racing through him like a disease. A scream tore across the room, gut-wrenching and ear-splitting.

“Let my brother go you imbeciles!” The colonel reeled away from the panting Alphonse, moving a tattered sleeve and bloody arm - Al’s blood, his brother was _dying_. No, _calm down_ \- to cover his ear.Damn, and people said _Edward_ was loud. Alphonse took no notice of the effect his shriek had on everyone in the nearly abandoned room, instead choosing to produce a cry of anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t seriously believe that the Fullmetal Alchemist would do something so... so... so _asinine_ , do you? He killed, no destroyed, that bastard Father and saved all of you, all of us...” Al trailed off, having completely dispossessed himself of his air supply. The young man was laying there, slumped over Mustang’s rigidly composed body, inhaling and exhaling as though his life depended on it. _It did_.

One blink. Two blinks. Three. “You...You...” The two gorillas spluttered for a while, as if Al’s statement was so preposterous that there were no words to describe their disdain towards it. “Hah hah. Wow, kid. You really believe all of that bullshit you just spouted there, don’t you?”

The seemingly nonsensical man strengthened his hold on Ed’s flesh arm, raising his shoulder to wipe his watering eyes with, though he _barely_ laughed, his irises glinting in the somewhat lacklustre lighting.

“I tell you what kid, if you mouth off one more time, the next bullet that leaves this gun...” Click. “...Will go through that pretty little head of yours.” A wide grin spread across the man’s face and split his features in two as he raised his pistol.

He moved the weapon so that the barrel of the gun was aimed directly at the younger Elric’s skull. Ed couldn’t _take_ it anymore. But he had to stay still. He couldn’t move a single muscle; he couldn’t do anything that would give these assholes a reason to hurt Alphonse or that Bastard Colonel.

Edward slumped. His posture showed a man who had accepted his fate, his defeat. His eyes, however, showed a different story. They glowed, ablaze with a fire of determination and resoluteness. Once Roy shifted his stare to meet Edward’s, the boy knew. Mustang had been mistaken and he’d realized his error now, Ed could see that. The Colonel had realized that there was no way in _Hell_ Ed would have actually worked with that monster. He opened his mouth to speak, the words coming out softer than he intended to.

“Alphonse, stop.” The boy’s irises widened dramatically, despair prominent. “No...Colonel, you can’t actually believe them, can you?!” Al’s voice was bubbling with betrayal and disbelief. Dammit, his baby brother just didn’t get it. “Alphonse you need to stop speaking right this instance. Your brother has to go with these men and neither of us holds the power to stop it.” Roy’s tone evened out and his voice became more stable, an authoritative glint radiating through. He bent his neck and manoeuvred his mouth so that it was hovering over the boy’s ear. His speech was hushed to a whisper, the volume so low that only Alphonse could hear it, which meant Ed couldn’t hear it so he was left guessing. Al’s eyebrows scrunched together, meeting in the centre of his face. His eyes burned with the need to say something, however, thankfully the youngest Elric sibling kept his mouth shut.

Throughout their interaction, Ed had pulled his features into a fearsome scowl to disguise the feeling of utter dread sinking like a rock in the pit of his stomach. When Al turned to look at him however, the expression dropped from his face entirely. He gulped. “Goodbye Al, I’ll see you soon.”

The two beast-like men who had been silent for the past five minutes tightened their hold on their prisoner. “That’s enough idle chitter chatter for now,” The smaller one spoke harshly, earning a low rumbling growl from Alphonse. “We really must be going.”

The two let out a harsh bark simultaneously, hauling Ed to the edge of the office. With one last pitiful glance towards the remaining occupants, Ed let himself be plucked from the floor like he weighed no more than a feather duster. Who knew how long it would be till they were all together again.

Ed didn't struggle as they all but carried him out into the dead of night. He didn't struggle when the plucked his watch from his person and sneered at it. He didn't struggle as their large, calloused hands patted him down for any other items only to find none.

He did, however, struggle when a large hypodermic needle was pulled out of a brown satchel slung over gorilla man's shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, it was a moment too late and his hair was yanked yard, exposing his neck to the men and making him feel extremely vulnerable. Why were they _drugging_ him? He was being arrested, and that kind of behaviour was breaking the law. Why would they need him unconscious? It didn’t make sense-

He shivered all the way down his spine as the realisation kicked in. He wasn't being arrested, he was being kidnapped.

He was being taken away quietly and he couldn't even scream and shout because Mustang and Alphonse were probably already on their way to the hospital and central Command was completely dead-

He could only struggle for a few more seconds before the cold pinch of the needle was sliding into his flesh, the pain itself meagre but the dread that accompanied it, the chill in his bones as the liquid swam through his veins and mixed with his blood more than made up for it.

A low groan escaped his throat as his limbs ceased to cooperate with him, bones becoming lead and his eyes falling closed. Shit, whatever stuff they'd given him had worked _fast_. Sodium pentothal? Maybe. He wondered if Al would get sodium pentothal when they extracted the bullet.

He wondered if Al was okay. Mustang too. For a brief moment, before consciousness slipped from his fingers, he wondered if he'd ever see them again.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 He didn't awake so much as he gradually regained awareness. At first he didn't know if he was awake at all; his vision was blank and there was no noise, only the thump thump thump of his own heart in his chest. At least he was alive.

Trying to move was impossible. His limbs were still paralysed and he realised the cocktail they gave him must have been a _tad_ stronger than he'd thought. His automail ached from all the tension it had been through but it was nothing compared to his flesh arm. It was definitely sprained, the searing pain only dulled by the fact that he was immobile.

A choked sob rang out in the room, startling his own ears. He was far away from Al and Roy, that was all he knew. He could break down without a chance of them hearing.

So he did. He cried, and cried and cried, until his eyes were sore and swollen behind the blindfold and his entire face was damp. He cried until the ache in his throat matched the ache in his shoulders. Until no tears would come and he was left shaking in his new prison.

At least he was alive.

 _At least_.


	2. There’s this ringing in my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy tries to process shit. Meanwhile, Ed tries to get his head straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He l l o  
> Can I first say I’m actually blown away that people are READING this garbage?? Thank you???  
> And also if you haven’t noticed, this is kinda au? Like it’s not really canon compliant but hopefully the ins and outs will make themselves clear soon enough. Enjoy!  
> Xoxo

Colonel Roy Mustang was most certainly not what one could describe as ‘okay’.

He was dancing on the line between a mental breakdown and straight up _homicide_. He hadn't felt this way since before Ishval. Note: before. The entirety of that jacked up excuse for a war on behalf of their genocidal leader had been spent in a haze of blood, fire and ash; he’d rather not remember that anyway, _thank you very much_.

But that's beside the point. Roy Mustang had no idea what the actual fuck was happening.

One minute he had been partaking in the back and forth banter that those in his office had become partial to, smirk never leaving his lips as he observed the infuriatingly endearing presence that was Edward Elric. Then, in the next, his blonde charge was getting dragged out by his mismatched arms, eyes placidly staring back into Roy’s own.

Roy had expected the boy to _fight_ , to tear out of those gorillas’ arms like they all knew he _could_ and rush to the wounded Alphonse’s side. But no, Edward had done nothing, nothing except stare and glare and wait for Mustang to understand.

He finally did.

That was a lie, Roy knew nothing of the sequence of events triggered by an unknown and inescapable cause. What he did know, however, was that Ed was an innocent in this situation. The boy must have understood what was happening to him, must have realised something. He was too _sharp_ for his own good, and now it seemed as if his alarmingly sharp mind had wound him up in deep, deep shit.

There was no time to be getting lost in his own toxic thoughts, Roy scolded himself, scrubbing a hand over his worn face, the cruel, uncomfortable hospital chairs a grim slap in the face. He had to shift his focus to the younger Elric, who was incapacitated with a _fucking bullet in_ _him_.

He knew Alphonse would be fine, rationally; the shot wasn't that bad and the blood loss had been kept to a minimum. But anxiety still gnawed away at his bones, dissolving his rational thoughts into weak, pitiful things and amplified his fear and doubt to 11.

Edward would _not_ be pleased if Alphonse was not properly taken care of, so Roy forced himself to stay focused and keep a level head. He himself could not afford to sit here, wondering how and when and why this had happened, not when his subordinate was currently captive for a crime he did not commit.

His relationship with Edward had always been - dicey? No, that wasn’t the word. More like there was more to it than what was seen to the public. People saw the stern Colonel and the outspoken, brilliant blonde boy and assumed a sort of mutual dislike, even hatred.

That was not the case. It was definitely more of a mutual respect, even admiration - because everyone who’d breathed the same _air_ as Edward felt compelled to admire him, the boy was fucking incredible. It had occurred to him multiple times that Ed didn’t know of his respect; he _loathed_ being treated as a child and Roy went out of his way to call him every name under the sun that poked fun of his youth (and height, to a certain extent, though not since he’d finally got his growth spurt)- but it’s not like he could just tell Fullmetal how amazing he was.

So yes. Roy Mustang’s feelings towards his subordinate was not entirely professional. At all.

And now something was wrong, terribly wrong and Ed had _known_? How long had he known? Roy’s heart fucking _ached_ at the thought of Edward sitting alone at night, sleep out of his reach because he knew they were coming for him-

He repeated a mantra of _stay calm, stay_ _calm, stay calm_ , but it barely helped as his mind kept wandering, straying from the path to visit a certain blond firecracker, one who _could be dead and he was just sitting around doing nothing-_

“Colonel Mustang?” The calm, stoic voice of a nurse sliced through his panic. He swallowed back the bitter taste of anxiety and looked up, schooling his features to conceal his worry. “We've recovered the bullet from Elic’s shoulder, he's perfectly fine, if a bit whoozy from the laughing gas. He’ll be back to normal in a couple of hours, but we'll need to keep him here for another 3 days as a _minimum_. Damage to his immune system or infection of his wound would not be good. Would you like to see him?”

Roy let this new slew of information wash over him, trying to take in all the facts, his stupid brain on the lookout for any words - death, dying, dead…

“Colonel Mustang?”

“Y-yes.” He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Yes. That's very kind of you,” his tone was much more grounded, but the shakiness still betrayed him and he winced, bones creaking as he mechanically got to his feet and marched over to the door - with forced authority which was not strictly necessary.

Pushing open the door was - scary? Terrifying.

Alphonse was pale, grey-purple shadows smudged beneath his eyes and lips dry and cracked.

His eyes lit up when he saw Roy hesitating at the door, lingering behind him for a second. Searching for his brother. Roy’s heart did a weird thing in his chest as the grey-green depths shut in disappointment.

“Brother?” He whimpered, his voice soft and vulnerable. Roy could only shake his head. Though he wasn’t responsible for this situation he still felt so damn _guilty_ at the face Al was making.

The colonel slowly, very slowly, made his way across the room, feet sticking to the floor as if his boots were coated in glue, as if stepping too hard would cause the delicate bubble of static in the room to shatter.

It shattered anyway.

“Colonel? Where's my brother? You said you'd tell me everything! Why aren't you talking?”

“Alphonse, if been in this room for a total of 10 seconds.” He replied calmly, sitting at the - uncomfortable plastic - chair placed beside the younger Elric’s bed.

He looked like shit up close, tired as hell and coated in thick paranoia, confusion painted on his face in layers.

“Edward didn’t do it.” He started carefully, lacing his fingers together and carefully cultivating a neutral expression. The younger Elric’s eyes pierced through it like a hot knife in butter.

“I don’t- I don’t know a lot, Alphonse.” He paused. “I just know that Ed would not….could not do something like that. The whole thing is either a rouse or the truth has be warped beyond point of recognition. He knew this would happen - like he’s been waiting for something to snap. The military is _harsh_ , Alphonse-“ Roy gestured to his shoulder and the boy winced.

“-and corrupt. It is quite possible Edward has uncovered some foul play that was best left covered.” He waited, seeing Alphonse’s brain processing and making sense of his forced-calm ramblings. After about a minute, the boy swore through his teeth.

“My _fucking_ brother,” Wow. Since when did Al curse? Edward was a sailor, his language was awful- but the younger of the two always felt uncomfortable with his brother’s words. This was knew. He briefly wondered how Edward would react to his baby brother cursing like him,

“-is an idiot. A brave, courageous, selfless idiot. He’s dug too far and now they’ve got a hold on him.” He took a shaking exhale. “They’ve stuck their claws in him. He’s going to need help ripping them out.”

New determination sparked in his eyes, almost frightening bright. His eyes bore into his own, silently asking-

“You need backup? You have me, Alphonse.”

Edward would be just fine.

They’d sort this out.

They’d be okay. 

* * *

 

 

 

He couldn't tell if he was awake or unconscious, mind swirling lucidly and uncontrollably. His face burned at his earlier break, his weakness and childish fear, the damaging sobs still tasting strong and salty on his tongue. He couldn't let that happen again. Ed knew that if he broke down again like that, these people would show no mercy and they'd latch onto any possible moment of vulnerability.

Now that he was in a more stable state of mind, he began to try and survey the situation properly. He couldn’t really piece together a lot - he was slightly dizzy from the drug they’d given him ( _wait, how long ago was that?)_ and he was almost immobile. The feelings of pain were deep rooted into his very being, the dull throb in his joints, the slight fizz of his nerves where flesh met metal. He could only compare it to how his body ached in pain and frustration whenever an onslaught of rain was on the brink of showering down.

This, however, was much, much worse.

They really wanted him fucked up for whatever they were going to do, and had even taken into precaution his alchemical abilities - his hands were wrapped in fabric and taped into fists. He’d be out of here by now if they weren’t.

Something scratchy and thick was lodged in his throat, dry as bone and foul tasting, presumably to silence his rambling threats. His eyes were covered - these fuckers were smart - with a dark fabric, leaving him blind to whatever was in store-oldest trick in the book. Ed wasn’t scared. Losers.

He did know one thing for certain, though. His captives were _liars_.

What was the bullshit about ‘Father?’ This went way deeper than surface level, and he knew that. Did they really think Ed was so _naïve_ , so _dumb_ that he'd believe their-

A mechanical sound filtered through the air - _an automatic door?_ The clean footsteps of one heavy male assailant rang through the stagnant atmosphere.

This was a different person to those that had kidnapped him. He knew that much, the Gorilla Men were loud, boisterous creatures who wouldn't know subtlety if _it slapped them in their fucking meaty faces_. Ed’s heart was tight in his chest, rhythmically pulsating against the confines of his ribcage as he forced the growing anxiety down his throat.

He didn't know what was coming, he just knew that it would be bad.

He was as helpless as he was blind, turning his head to the sounds, where apparently the man had stopped, as if taking in his predicament, his humiliation, his vulnerability.

“You’re the Fullmetal Alchemist? Huh. I thought you’d be bigger in person. Bit more intimidating.”

Ed fucking snarled around the spongey shit in his mouth, wrinkling his nose in anger.

“There’s little stories ‘bout you. This powerful alchemical genius, able to bring a grown man to his knees. All I see is a skinny little twink with a ponytail.”

A rough hand pulled his hair condescendly, and an even rougher laugh rang out in the small room. Who the fuck did he think he was? If only he’d be so kind as to untie him, Ed would have this asshole on the floor before he could even _blink_ , blind or not.

But no. That wasn’t why he was here. He was only here to be silenced - they needed to nip him in the bud, while he was still in the most basic stages of investigation. Before it escalated.

Before he found the truth.

Ed didn’t know whether he wished his brother and the Colonel to uncover the harsh reality of it, before whatever these _cunts_ had planned went down or something went wrong, or if he wanted them to stay out of this completely. After all, speculation and theories had wound Edward up in this mess and if he was being honest, he didn’t really see an outcome by which all the variables were satisfactory.

Worst case scenario, he died in this place, wherever he was, and whatever fucked up secret that was buried deep under the Amestrian military ruined the entire country. Ed’s heart rate quickened ever so slightly.

_Best not think about that_. 

And suddenly there was no _time_ to think at all because the other occupant suddenly made himself noticed by forcing Ed’s head back, unnaturally bending his neck into an unbreathable position over the chair he had been roughly shoved into.

The unwanted movement caused him to splutter and salivate into the gag, his voice caught by the immovable object. His covered eyes rolled backwards to meet fluttering eyelashes that scraped against the itchy blindfold as this man held him there, struggling for breath.

The universe exploded under his eyelids, galaxies traversing across the expanse of his withheld vision and stars coming into life only to die straight after. Spit leaked from the corners of his mouth, liquid escaping the confines of the gag as the oxygen deprivation took its effect.

Even in his distracted state, Edward felt as the man inched closer to the boy’s twisted face, his own features molded into an expression of desperation. He felt as the man’s face leered centimeters away from his own, his putrid breath making its way into Ed’s nostrils. The beast poked at the spongy material of the gag.

“Hn, this is useless, ” With his mouth open, the rotten scent became even more pungent, “I may as well remove it.”

The crackling in his voice reminded Ed of the hint of gravel that accompanied Havoc’s lazy drawl, only to a more ferocious degree. Smoker, what a surprise.

The finger laying still on the blockage in the blonde's mouth slowly stroked downwards until it eventually met where the edge of the gag met the corner of his dehydrated lips. Ed could feel the skin rough as sandpaper against his own as the finger hooked onto a strap and yanked the offending item away from his face.

In simultainy, the man released the grip of his other hand that was carded through Ed’s hair, allowing the boy’s head to snap back into place and the teen sucked the waiting air into empty lungs, small wave of dizziness washing over him as the drug in his veins made itself apparent once again.

As his mind was still swimming from the oxygen deprivation, Ed could think if nothing to say with more wit than a simple, “Fuck you!” Not his best retort, certainly nothing like the carefully crafted phrases he’d perfected just for Mustang, but a classic nonetheless.

“Well now, we'll certainly have ‘ta do something about that language,” The lilt to the man’s voice was somewhat rough and it singed through Ed’s spine and crackled through his nerves.

After gritting his teeth, the blonde opened his now free mouth and spat blindly in the man’s exposed face. (Going by the satisfyingly disgusting sound, it had reached its target)

“No way in hell are you going to do anything to me, you meaty oaf!” Ed was greeted with silence.

Dropping whatever he was doing behind the boy, Ed could feel as the man moved his arm around him. As Edward’s  shoulder was circled and the man pulled away, his hand clipped Ed’s collarbone and trailed along its length until retracting completely.

“It seems we'll have to add manners to those lessons, brat.” The previous ever present sick amusement was lost from the man’s voice, leaving a cold sneer in its wake. Ed felt a moist, clammy hand swipe across his face.

“Bastard!” Ed snarled, trying to suppress a shudder.

“Oh come now, you can't just call me that!” He said, grin clear in his voice. “How about ‘ _Daddy_ ’ if you prefer? No, no. Best keep it appropriate.” Ed flushed up to his ears and growled wordlessly.

“Those who know of me, call me _Silver_ _Serpent_. Those who know me…“ a breathy exhale that counted as a laugh.

“Well, I guess corpses can't speak, can they?”

The now named ‘ _Silver Serpent_ ’ finished with a mad cackle that howled and ricocheted through the room and made Ed want to cringe and shy away. After cultivating a witty (enough, given the circumstances) reply, Ed swallowed subtlety.

“Ha, Serpent is it? If it’s any consolation, that suits you. You do come across as rather slimy, asshole. You know-”

Ed’s rant was cut short by the overwhelmingly loud crack of skin against skin. His head was shoved to the side as he stuttered in shock. He’d just been fucking slapped. _Slapped_.

“As much as I appreciate _games_ , I don't think this is the time or place for _fun_ , is it? Well, not for you at least, hmm?”

Serpent hummed and Ed could feel the man’s gaze on him. Still reeling from shock (he blamed the shit they injected into his fucking blood) he inhaled through his nose a few times, not knowing how to react.

That was a bad idea. All he could smell was the pungent scent of sweat accompanied by an unknown tang of something… odd. Ed couldn't work it out, almost smelt like metal, like iron. Like blood. Blood but _wrong_.

Gathering his wits, Ed shallowly bit his lip and turned his head back to what he hoped was the right direction.

“What do you want with me?” The question was ambiguous, an almost hidden tremble escaping along with his voice, his lips shaking of their own accord thanks to the apparent swelling. He could taste blood. _Dammit_.

“Now, I wouldn't recommend askin’ stupid questions. You know exactly why you're here, _Sweetheart_ , and I’d prefer it if you didn’t pretend otherwise.”

The hand that had been absent since the previous offence had now come back, harshly grabbing Ed’s left shoulder and ripping him anti-clockwise, _hard_. Years of automail surgery aided him, and he easily concealed any noises of pain, biting his split lip slightly, the sting of that distracting him from the explosion in his shoulder.

“Well then, shall we get started? Considering you work- forgive me, _worked_ , in the Military, I’m sure you understand how an interrogation works.”

Serpent unleashed a fierce cackle, Ed was certain that if he could see, he would be presented with the sight of a manic grin exposing crooked teeth colored all kinds of yellow and black. _Well, Ed had always had an overactive imagination_.

“However, I think the sort that you're acquainted with have a certain legality that I tend to negate.”

The words that held a faint trace of excitement sent unwanted shivers through Ed’s entire body. He swallowed thickly before opening his mouth to speak.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Hmm, I’m sure you'll find out.”

At that, Edward stiffened and sucked in a much needed breath that burned his throat. “Evading the question are we, asshole?”

The afore-mentioned-asshole must not have expected nor appreciated his response, because immediately after Ed shut his mouth he found himself catapulted off of his chair and strewn haphazardly across what felt to be a slimy-tiled floor. Ew.

Ed may not have been a clean freak but he at least knew how to tidy up after himself, _jeez_. Both of the Serpent’s hands clutched the front of his clothing and proceeded to roughly hoist his entire body up into the air, not giving him time for his lungs to adjust to the previous sudden movement.

“ _First things first,_ ” The man snarled out, “Tell me exactly what you know.” Ed lifted his head up.

“You're gonna have to be specific than that, ass.”

Serpent growled lowly, not unlike a predator. “Listen here, _Sweetheart_ , there's two ways that this can go. Number One, you do exactly what I say. If you obey me no one gets hurt. Much.”

The man halted his speech to give way to a snicker of delight, “And then you have Number Two. This way is a lot more painful for you but a hell of a lot more fun for me. Which way will it be, Love?”

Ed gave no reply save for a slight downturn of his chapped lips.

“Good. Now then, I’ll ask nicely again, tell me everything you know.”

A wicked grin spread across Ed’s visible face. “You know, if I were to get a job as an interrogator... person, I think that I’d learn proper Amestrian first.”

“I’m sorry?” Serpent ground out impatiently.

“You should be; you said you were going to ask me a question, but that was a statement.”

The atmosphere was tense as Ed just swung there, grinning. That was a low blow, even for him - he’d never been one to enjoy literature but he knew Al did, and anything this brother did by _default_ he was forced to at least have a basic understanding of.

His clothing shifted as the Serpent retracted one of his hands, letting Ed’s body droop slightly.

“I see. I suppose that you aren't going to make this easy for me, are you.” The man sighed heavily before letting out a loud huff.

“Never mind, all the more entertaining for me.” He paused, as if considering something. 

“Although, I was only given a certain amount of time today. Higher ups thought you’d be an easy nut to crack, if you catch my drift. Well, seems like we’re about to become very familiar with eachother, Elric. I think we'll end it here. For now.” That statement held so much promise, so much weight, so much subtley concealed excitement that it made Ed scowl.

Was this going to be it? Days and days and weeks and months of the same creepy asshole intimidating him? He wouldn’t talk. He _couldn’t_ talk. He was still in the dark (literally) about this shit, with know was of knowing if Serpent was referring to the whole father hoax or…

“Night night, Fullmetal Alchemist,” Without his sight, Ed had no idea what that meant for him. That is, until a giant fist met his face and _cracked_ into his jaw; stars danced across his eyes before they rolled back into his skull with a soft groan, completely unconscious.


	3. Empty handed because I live in daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphonse and Mustang have a moment. Havoc delivers some important information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a little disclaimer, I do not claim to know ANYTHING about the legal system, much less in Amestris. I’ve asked my mom a few things just so I don’t seem like a novice (she’s a lawyer) and so please excuse any inconsistencies. Or stuff that is plain out wrong. Thank you!! 
> 
> Also look forward to some Ed in the next chapter bc he’s not in this one :( xoxoxo

Al winced as he heard a grating slide of pottery against hardwood and glanced up to see the Colonel pushing a plate of undefined food his way.

He squinted up at him, the pattern he’d been tracing with his eyes on the rich wooden coffee table disintegrating into chaotic forms that made his head spin. He’d been concentrating hard on not concentrating on the very large elephant in the room.

“Sorry, you didn't say anything when I called out to you.” Mustang stated in a careful voice, looking part concerned and very stressed.

“Eat up.” Alphonse looked again at him again, then at the food. Though it smelt delicious, his stomach twisted with nausea at the thought of eating anything and he swallowed. He did hate to have to turn down hospitality, it wasn’t in his prerogative, but-

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. You can eat it, Sir.”

“Alphonse, you haven't eaten since you were discharged yesterday. So, either eat this up or I'll drive you back there myself.” The Colonel’s threat was accompanied by a mandatory eyebrow raise. Alphonse sighed, frown twisting on his face as he acknowledged his churning stomach.

“I don’t - my appetite is nonexistent, Colonel. I’m worried for brother.” It was a small victory, the fact that his voice barely shook and he didn’t have to cope with the pity-mixed-with-anguish expression painted on the Colonel’s face whenever he spoke about Ed.

The past few days had been - awkward. And boring. And agonising, with no word of his brother’s predicament and nothing to do but wallow in a hospital bed until Mustang came in and broke him out. He didn’t even flinch when being introduced to the Colonel’s home: under normal circumstances Alphonse would love to memorise the nuances of his comfortable cottage, see what else he could decipher from it about Mustang’s enigmatic personality. He’d barely remembered to smile and thank the man for letting him stay with him for the next few days, just until he could face going back to his own accommodations knowing his brother would be plainly absent.

Mustang gave a small noise of sympathy. Then he sat down next to Al, looking a lot let like Colonel and a lot more like Roy. Though subtle, his appearance was definitely under the usual golden standards. His hair was more messy, like he’d been constantly running a hand through it, and less like he’d purposely styled it that way and there were deep grey-ish purple bags lining his eyes.

“I know, Alphonse. But there is no point making yourself ill again when we need you at full health. There’s a lot heading our way with this situation, and we can’t afford you passing out or feeling shitty because you haven’t eaten. Or slept.”

He added, accompanying that with a slight eyebrow raise at his own bedraggled appearance.

“Besides,” he added, small twinge of humour laced through his voice. “Edward would march his ass over here right now if he knew I’d been neglecting your health. So please,” His eyes pleaded, and Al looked down.

“Eat.” _Now_ how could he refuse? The Colonel has dug him into a hole here, and with a sigh of exhaustion and frustration, he nodded, carefully accepting the unexpectedly warm plate, frowning at the heat.

“What is this? I don't think I’ve ever eaten it with Brother before.” This was an attempt to clear the unsurprisingly heavy air, and to his relief it worked.

The man quirked a small smile, “Well that's because it's a family recipe, I'd be surprised if you had. It’s originally Cretan, with a few Mustang _twists_.”

Making a surprised sound, Al scrutinized the food again, “ _You_ made this?”

“No need to sound so concerned, Elric, it isn't poisoned.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant, Colonel!” Al’s face heated up slightly at the comment, before a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “Anyway, if anyone was to receive a home cooked meal from you Colonel, I would have thought it’d be Brother.” A frail spark of amusement fired in him as he watched the Colonel’s reaction. It did not disappoint.

Mustang choked a little on his own saliva whilst breathing in, “And what’s that supposed to mean, Alphonse?”

“Nothing at all, Sir. I was just thinking, Ed’s the one who’s your subordinate, not me.” Mustang said nothing, embarrassment clear on his face as a creeping flush - which he struggled futilely to control - travelled up his neck.

Al gently picked up a pair of cutlery and stabbed a piece of pickled cabbage, deciding after all that a little food wouldn’t hurt him. “Thank you for the food, Colonel.” He’d tortured the man enough. For now.

Mustang straightened his back an cleared his throat, “Of course, if you'll excuse me I'll go make a cup of tea. Do you want one?” He asked, not-so-subtly making sure the conversation didn't veer back to the previous topic and Alphonse almost smiled. Cup of tea? Now _that_ was a bad excuse. Typical: his brother never liked talking about the Colonel and seeing the way Mustang had reacted to a simple yet effective dig was amusing.

At least it put the swirling storm in his mind at ease for a while.

Putting down his fork and finishing the bite of whatever food it was that he had in his mouth, Al shook his head, “No, thank you.” He declined politely.

“Alright, I'll be back in a minute.” Al tried not to snicker at the spots of colour on his pale cheeks. The man turned to leave, his (horribly creased) jacket flipping with a flourish. The Colonel had always held a flare for the dramatic.

Just before he past the threshold of the door, Al called his name in a tone that was neither quiet nor loud but thankfully unshaken.

“Just one more thing, Colonel: when is Brother’s court case?”

The Colonel paused mid step and swiveled to face Al. His eyebrows crinkled; his lips downturned into a slight frown and he raised a bare hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. He let out a quiet huff as he pondered the question, as if he hadn’t thought of it much over the past few days. It was probably because he thought this whole situation was way more shadier than he was letting on.

“To be honest, Alphonse, I haven't heard anything so I can't give you a definite answer. I’d say that it won't be for a while. Fraudulent accusations take quite some time to support, you know.”

When Mustang finished, Al conjured a surprised laugh at the blatenty of the Colonel’s statement. He smiled. Alphonse had thought deep down that maybe the Colonel had believed what those Gorillas had spouted. He knew he should never have doubted the man, Mustang was one of the most stubborn, loyal men he knew. Right after his brother of course. Now, however, he realized how stupid his cautions were; the Colonel knew Ed better than the boy himself had thought and therefore knew there was no way the claims could have any substance.

Al looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking. He clenched them tight together and gazed at the scars from spars and menial accidents that he had been so happy to create after gaining back his real, flesh body. A distraction. Al knew that there was no method to repay Ed for getting his body back, however, he also knew that his brother would in no way recognize the fact that he even needed to be repaid. According to his brother, it was Ed’s fault that Al had lost his body in the first place, so getting it back was a duty that had fallen upon him.

Still, it’s not like he couldn’t help his brother out, let him know that he loved him with all of his fucking heart. It’s not like he couldn’t do menial things to help him out, like braid his hair into its signature fat plait, or even cut it, when it got too ‘ratty’, as Ed called it. It’s not like he couldn’t wake up from dream-filled sleeps, appreciating the very fact that he _could_ sleep, standing over Ed’s unconscious form, plagued by nightmares of his mistakes, pulling the blankets over his exposed belly and holding his shaking figure. It was the least he could do.

Now his brother was gone, and he had no clue what to do with himself.

_Not gone. They would get him back._

He sure hoped so, for his and the Colonel’s sanity.

“Alphonse?” A quiet inquiry startled Al out from his melancholic thoughts, bringing his spiraling mind into reality once again. He raised his gaze to find Mustang’s eyes crinkled in concern.

Al felt tendrils of guilt seep into his muscles and they became taught and rigid. He hadn't meant to cause worry.

Inhaling deeply, Al sighed before responding. “I’m sorry, Sir. It's just… Brother. I’m worried Colonel.” Mustang relaxed his expression and twitched his lips in a small smile.

“Everyone’s worried, Alphonse. They _always_ are. It's your brother after all.”

“What if they're not treating him right? What if he's scared?”

“Alph-”

“Do you think he’s eating right?” Brother always eats more than others.”

“Alphonse-“

“Colonel, what if they haven't fed him? I don't mean to make him seem like a dog, but-”

“Alphonse-”

“And I can’t stop thinking about his Automail, it’s got to be messed up from their pulling. No one’s there to help him, he’s too stubborn to _ask_ for it.”

“Alphonse-“

“I know arrests aren’t just a walk in the park but do you think they’ll take care of him? At least make sure he’s not in any mortal danger-“

“ _Alphonse_!”

Mustang cleared his throat loudly and shouted into the room to gain Al’s attention. Choking slightly on a breath that had gotten stuck at the interruption to his rant, Al breathed in and out a few times to recover.

“Y-Yes?” The Colonel sighed deeply and clasped the bridge of his nose. “Calm down, Alphonse. Panicking isn't going to help Fullmetal anymore than doing nothing would.” That was all well and good, but hearing it hadn't helped at all and it wasn’t like Al could just _turn his protective nature off like a tap_. He couldn’t just stop worrying about his brother. It would always be there, in the back of his mind like a song you just can’t shake from your brain or an unpleasant memory that haunts you.

It hadn’t stopped since the minutes they’d dragged his poor brother out.

He sighed again for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, and tried to cease nervously wringing his hands together before he cracked his skin and started bleeding over the Colonel’s furniture.

“Come here, Alphonse.” And suddenly the Colonel was giving him a tentative hug; his arms rested around Al’s shoulders lightly while his hands lightly stroked his left, making sure the pressure on the right one was kept to a minimum - Colonel would have probably sooner died himself than caused the wound to reopen.

Giving a shaking sob, Alphonse tried to compose himself but he was _weary_ ; The combination of a bullet in him and his missing brother took a lot out of him and he physically felt weaker than before (though that may have something to do with the wound). Mentally too. And emotionally. He just felt _weak_.

The first few tears slid down silently, the only suggestion to his grief and fear was the slight shaking which Mustang’s arms could not still. He tried not to get too loud, fearing being ridiculed, but then realised that this was the Colonel: Brother trusted him with everything he had to give, so why shouldn’t Al?

That was a good enough reason for Alphonse Elric to weep like a baby on Colonel Mustang’s shoulder for the better part of 20 minutes.

They stayed like that for a long time; Mustang stood in the very doorway he’d attempted to retreat through not even half an hour ago with strong arms wrapped around the still sobbing Al.

“...I wish I could hold him like this, Alphonse.” Was the first thing he said, softly, vulnerably. Alphonse stayed quiet and just listened, so the man continued.

“I wish he’d let me hold him like this. Just sometimes. So he could cry. I wish he didn’t take the burden of the whole goddamn _world_ on his own shoulders.”

Alphonse was a little stunned at the quiet confession, the rawness to his words startling. This was the first time….. _ever_ that the Colonel has admitted (as far has he knew) that he cared more for Edward than just his subordinate. That he did worry about his well being and notice all of his more subtle moods, that he wanted him safe and happy.

He fucking knew it.

“That’s just how brother is.” He replied, sniffing a little. It was true; that was just Ed. Ed had always heaved up everyone's problems and piled them atop his own, the stack growing and growing until his were buried mile deep and inaccessible.

“Maybe if he had told me then I could have- I could have maybe- done _something_ at least...”

“Worrying won’t help him any more than doing nothing.”

He parroted Mustang’s words from earlier. Coming from anyone else, the repetition may have come across as patronizing, however when Al said it, the response came as a comfort. After, neither said anything for a long while, comfortable in their own silence.

It wasn’t like either of them had anything to say, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

After the _almost_ embarrassing and _kind_ _of_ inappropriate moment in the Colonel’s kitchen, Mustang had gone out for a short while, promising to be back before dark.

“I need to know what Hawkeye makes of this situation.” Alphonse had to bite his tongue to stop himself from cruelly stating that Riza probably wouldn’t know what to do any more than he did.

But anyhow, Alphonse was unpacking his things when the first whispers of rain came trickling down outside. The clouds made the house seem much darker and he was a little stuck on what time it was, and when exactly the Colonel would return.

A sudden, crisp knock startled him ever so slightly, and he froze. Surely the Colonel wouldn’t need to knock to get into his own house? He thought about leaving it for a second; the lights in the house were off and Mustang’s car was absent so there was no reason to think that anyone was inside. The second round of knocking changed his mind.

He crept quietly, like a cat, into the entrance hall, trying to quill his irrational worry. Staring through the peephole made him breathe out in relief. It was only Havoc.

He opened up quickly and ushering the man inside, who’s cigarette was clinging to the last legs of life due to the moist, rainy air.

“Sorry, Boss. Got some info on your brother - the Colonel will probably want t’ see it too. Where’s he?” He didn’t find it strange at all that Alphonse was in Colonel Mustang’s home, and he concluded that the commanding officer must have told his team about their arrangements.

“He’s not in Sir, but he should be back soon. Come sit down, and you can tell me everything.” The man nodded, wiping his shoes off before stepping into the warm house, humidity making his cheeks blotchy.

Once seated on the sofa, he pulled out a rather crumpled copy of the news - “I knew he wouldn’t have one yet. You two have been rather low profile since this all went down.”

The front page headline made all of the suppressed worry and anger and fear bubble up like an active Volcano:

**_Former Fullmetal Alchemist arrested for alliance with criminal he allegedly killed._ **

So they weren’t keeping it quiet.

Ed was now a criminal in the eyes of Amestris, and the whole story itself was so vague that it made Alphonse slightly sick. They had no _right_ to arrest his brother, call him names, discredit every damn thing he’d done for the country. Now the papers were teeming with ‘ _Could we even trust him to begin with?’_ And _‘He claims to have saved Amestris but how much more of his story is lies?’_ Alphonse scanned the article for any other actually information, not just blatant bullshit and false accusations, and came up unsurprisingly short. But what did surprise him was that the writing seemed a little.. _off_ , as if someone pretty illiterate had got their hands on the story and just banged it out in an hour.

If they arrested him he was entitled to a lawyer.

When was his trial, anyway? The phrasing of this paper made it seem as though he was already confirmed guilty, despite literally no evidence. Alphonse had never been too fond of the courtroom, but he knew that in the eyes of the Law he would be pulled in for questioning, and he’d have a right to call in the lawyer. It was obvious from the news now that they’d determined him guilty; there was no option for bail.

Seemed about right: brother was very normadic and if they let him go, him an Al would probably be smuggled out of the country by now. As well as that the crime in which he’d been accused of was extremely severe; Father had almost sent the entire country to hell ( literally) and someone suspected of working with an individual of such power would not be treated kindly in the legal system.

Court was a long, lengthy process, and it had only been a few days but dammit, he was _impatient_ and wanted to see his brother again. They’d detained him, that much was true, and now all they could do was wait with baited breath until his trail.

_The military is corrupt, Alphonse._

Colonel’s words from a few days ago rang, but Al pushed them away. They wouldn’t do that, would they? He pushed the thought down, begin to cultivate a response to the scandalous article when the front door clicked open and the Colonel was announcing himself with a shout.

“I spoke to Hawkeye, Alphonse. She suggested we visit your brother’s notes. She also said we’d better get on it- since he’s under arrest they could have people there right this minute, stealing or even destroying his research. We’ll go- Oh. Lieutenant Havoc. What is it?”

He was dripping with rain as he stood there, and Havoc waved the paper at him.

“Something you might wanna see. ‘S about the Boss and it doesn’t look good.”

Mustang took the paper, frowning slightly as he read the headline before his eyes grew wide.

“Forget what I was saying. We need to get Edward’s notes, _now_.”

“Colonel Mustang, _what_ -“

But he had already made it to the door, and Al followed hastily. Whatever had spooked the Colonel so, was not good news.

Al didn’t know a lot, he just knew that something in his stomach felt very, _very_ wrong.


	4. Secrets don’t make friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed starts to realise how serious these fuckers are. Meanwhile, Roy, Alphonse and Havoc investigate Edward’s notes.

Ed had been strapped down into the same damn chair that was so fucking uncomfortable for eight days now. He obviously couldn't count the minutes like some kind of jacked up grandfather clock but he had realized that every time they had brought him food, what seemed like half an hour later, a horrendous churning sound would start and last for just long enough to piss him the hell off. He had no idea what it could be; without anymore information it was just another factor in the many elements used to drive him up the wall.

Around day three, they’d cranked the heat up so hot it had made his head spin before he eventually passed out from dehydration. Although, he definitely preferred the heat to the freezing cold, especially with his automail. They’d stripped him down to his underwear, while he was knocked the fuck out, which in itself was not fun, but the ache in his metal limbs and the chattering of his teeth were far worse. That was _not_ fun, and he’d burned at least 5000 calories just fucking shivering. _And_ they still hadn’t given his clothes back. Ed doubted he’d be seeing his beloved leather pants for a long while.

But _anyway_. It’s not as if he was here for a pleasant stay.

And the food. _Well_. If he had to describe it, Ed would tell whatever poor sod to whom he was speaking to imagine the military cafeteria food. Then imagine the whole meal beaten together in a fit of rage from a middle aged horse-and-cart driver’s feet. After that, whatever sop that had survived would be dribbled onto a cold and rusty, unwashed tray.

Although, terrible food was still food.

At that specific moment of time, Ed would have murdered someone for that slop.

Well, maybe not yet.

But the point still stood that for the past 48 hours he'd been fed absolutely nothing. He felt as though any moment longer without sustenance and his stomach would start to eat itself inside out and he’d end up as an indiscernible puddle on the gritty floor that his feet resided on.

Suffice to say he was hungry.

Before Ed could start monologuing to himself over how much he desired a nice hot bowl of Al’s home cooked stew, the sweet sweet taste of stew, he heard a scuffling of feet, around 2 o’clock to where he was sitting, and he wondered idly if it would be the asshole from before and seized up thinking about what kind of shit the ‘Silver Serpent’ was going to put him through him when he finally returned. They hadn’t spoken after their introduction on day 0 (Ed refused to call it day one; he had no idea what time he’d woken up on so he decided to start his counter the next day) and Ed was looking forward to their next encounter, because surely letting him starve to death could never be their end game? Ed tried to convince himself this, but couldn’t quite share his rational thought with his stomach.  
  
Seemed like he got lucky, as outside the room, he could hear the man’s low, gravelly voice humming an atonal tune. He was fucking _creepy_ , Ed wasn’t even going to lie.

The man door opened once again, with the vague mechanical sound, and the humming became much louder.

“Ah, it's been a fair while, hasn't it, Sweetheart?”  
He asked rhetorically, and Ed blanched at the nickname, whilst simultaneously shrinking down into his chair and the sound of the rough voice, it grated on him like sandpaper. Ed didn’t think that justified a response so he kept quite. For once.

“So, how are you holding up? Hungry?” The words were followed by what Ed had come to see as the man’s signature cackle, all sharp and cracking. It was amused with more than a small amount of criminally deranged.

If he could, Ed would have sent a glare so horrifying it could skin a cat. Instead, he sufficed with swearing and shouting and growling like a stray dog at the ogrish man, hoping that his head was at least pointed in the right direction.

“Now, now, calm down, Pet.”

Pet. _Pet_?! Edward Elric was a lot of things. A genius, his brain supplied. Stubborn, persistent, dramatic, loud.. the list went on. He was many things, but he was no one’s fucking ‘ _pet_ ’. The ‘Dog of the military’ thing was just a stupid saying Mustang likes to toss around, just to piss him off.

He’d rather die than be a sad, subservient little Pet.

Ed choked on one of his fuming breaths, “Wh-what did you just call me, Asshole?!”

The Serpent gave an amused snort and stamped his foot on the ground. The sound rang out louder than expected and made Ed jump. “Don’t go getting your panties in a twist, we wouldn’t want you blowing the top of your head clean off without expending you to your greatest potential, would we now?”

Ed rolled his eyes. This fucker was so convoluted, in everything he said. The way everything was said and phrased just made him want to put a bullet in his own skull.

“That was a whole lot of bullshit to say one thing. What do you mean by my ‘potential’ anyway?” The way the man talked really grated on his nerves; nothing was ever straight forward, he always had to ask questions to decode what Serpent was trying to say. Either that or the subject matter was just plain creepy.

“Never you mind that. Are you ready to talk yet? I would have thought after a couple of days of stewing with no food you may have come to your senses.” The man had taken a few more languid steps closer to Ed, judging by the footsteps, so that he was now so close to him that Ed could smell the pungent scent of alcohol and cigarettes oozing off of him.

The boy snorted, false confidence clear in his over exaggerated tone. “Ha! Like hell, asshole. You haven't even told me _what_ you want me to tell you.”

The Serpent hummed in a patronizing fashion, “Hmm, really? You know full well what I'm asking you for. Don't even bother to try and deny it.”

“Is that so?” Ed sneered harshly at the man, the action causing his already parched throat to crack in protest. He _really_ needed a drink.

It seemed that the Serpent had noticed his less than healthy state, because the ass immediately chuckled. Ed assumed that the sound was supposed to be menacing, but it really just made him want to punch the man’s face in repeatedly and unmercifully.

“I suppose you're thirsty. Good thing I brought some water with me, eh?”

Before Ed had a chance to respond to the ( _taunt_?) question, his head was unceremoniously ripped backwards. The tendons and muscles were strained to bend to the Serpent’s will as the man shoved his hand into Ed’s hair and pushed his neck down, and he was proud that he just managed to bite back his sound of pain.

Shocked by the sudden movement, Ed gasped, startled; the opening of his mouth allowed for the man to shove his entire fist into it, just for _fun_? Because he _could_? God, Ed hated this man. Everything he did was so fucking pointless, so cringe-worthy and annoying. He bit into the knuckles pressed against his teeth and Serpent laughed, like he’d been expecting it.  
“Feisty boy,” he chastised, other hand tapping underneath Ed’s chin condescendingly, and Ed made a noise akin to one of annoyance. He hoped. To him, it kind of sounded like an indignant grunt but whatever.

He could taste the faint tang of blood on his tongue.

Serpent released his hold of Ed’s hair so the asshole could grapple somewhere near Ed’s feet. The position made the man’s body heat radiate onto Ed’s own and his state of undress became glaringly apparent. He was freezing.

He heard a faint sloshing sound as Serpent grunted, lifting something.  
What was that?  
Wait, he’d said something about… water?

_Oh, shit_.  
  
All coherent thought left him as a sea of water filled his lungs, enveloping his mouth and chilling his teeth as the liquid rushed over his gums. He gulped down as much has he could but with that fucker’s hand still partly in his mouth, it was pretty hard and most of it splashed over his face, soaking him.

It flowed down his face and over his body, completely covering his chest and lap, so, _so_ cold.  
Trying to get a breath in was impossible; a wet gasping sound tore from his mouth embarrassingly as droplets ran down his nose, adding to feelings of nausea and disorientation.

All of his saliva was washed out of his mouth and he suddenly couldn’t believe he’d been craving moisture a few seconds ago when all he wanted now was to get away. He really couldn’t keep this up much longer, he hadn’t had a proper breath in a long time and if he wasn’t careful he was going to pass out pretty soon.

“Aa- _argh_!” Ed could do nothing but gurgle, trying to swallow it but it was too much too fast and this throat couldn’t keep up with the amount, and it flowed and flowed and flowed.

_He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe_ -

The bastard wouldn’t let him die? Would he? He wasn’t going to die here, gasping for air desperately and wishing he’d done the things he hadn’t?

Serpent murmured, maliceful encouragements, mock praise as he held Ed’s hair from his face and _Jesus_ how big was this bucket? A steady flow had been maintained for some time now, it should have been running out soon-

“Come on Sweetheart, you can do it.” He spoke, voice full of ill intent. Ed thrashed like a fish out of water.

_Oh, the irony_.

“Come on, come on, _scream_ for me.”

And scream he did, finding his voice at last, the water painfully mangling his words and shrieks, warping them into nonsense. He screamed for his torturer to stop, to let him breathe.

He finally did.

He stopped, after all the water was gone, leaving only a few droplets to tauntingly splash onto the boy’s face, removing the hand from between his teeth where Ed could taste the blood- he hadn’t noticed how hard he’d been clenching his teeth at one point, apparently. He let Ed’s head droop forwards in finite exhaustion.

Edward sobbed hard, embarrassed by his tears but seriously, he felt as if they were justified. His skin itched and once again the irony was laughable; the water coating his body made him feel filthy, burning him like acid.

 “Oh come now, surely you can't be done already.” The other man leered closer to him, closer and closer until Ed could feel the hair on the man’s chin brush against his own skin, rough and scratchy against Ed’s cheek. He felt sick.

The Serpent dropped down to a whisper and spoke right next to Ed’s ear, “After all, I’ve got so much more _fun_ for us to have.”

That pushed him over the edge, the final straw. Ed felt his body lurch, and suddenly he was _heaving_ , vomiting up stomach acid because _his body had nothing to expel_ , burning his throat all the way up. He could hear Serpent’s laughter in his ears and he wanted nothing more then to just fall unconscious, to let this end for know where he could rest in the land of scarily real dreams and unsaid words. The water chilled his body, droplets sliding down his bare chest, down his his navel, making him shudder.

“Let it all out, come on.” The sick fuck encouraged, excited by Ed’s pain and suffering and _seriously_ it has barely been a week and he was already falling apart. Ed cried, feeling like a weak sack of shit but he was so _hungry_ and yet he felt so nauseous and Serpent was rubbing _disgusting_ circles into the back of his thigh and it felt _wrong don’t touch me-_

“You ready to talk yet? _Fullmetal_?”

The use of that name, the code name that _he_ always used made him cry harder, and Ed’s body could only shake like a fucking leaf, his head spinning as he gasped desperately. His eyes were screwed shut underneath the fabric as tears spilled freely from his eyes.

“Fullmetal,” he teased again, running a hand over Ed’s filthy chin degradingly, the other hand moving up to cup his bare waist roughly.  
“You want to talk to Daddy now?”

“N-never!” Drool and bile spilled from his mouth and burning his throat. “I won’t tell you shit!” He was a touch hysterical at this point, screaming a little bit too loud even for him.

Suddenly, Serpant’s hand ceased tracing his thigh. Time seemed to stop, and Ed suddenly felt like he’d definitely said the wrong thing.The stunned silence rang out in the room like a fucking church bell, suspenseful, and suddenly Serpent was laughing again; it was a chuckle, small and quiet, yet it chilled Ed more than the hyperbolic, psychotic cackle which he was acquainted with. When the harsh sound fizzled out into nothing, he began combing through Ed’s soaked strands.

“That sounds like a refusal to me,” he said, conversationally, pausing slightly in his ministrations before continuing.

“Every time I asked that question, you never refused outright. Thanks for that, Sweetheart. This gig we have going on just got so much more _interesting_ : We’ve just been waitin’ for you to say the right things. The ‘code words’, as it were.”

And suddenly his mouth was pried open once more and Ed retched, ready to expel more stomach acid before a thick wad of sponge, dense and firm, was shoved between his teeth. No, not just between his teeth- _down his fucking throat,_ blocking his airway. Ed retched, sound being absorbed by the gag as his throat spasmed, trying to get rid of the offending object but it was no use. Serpent was buckling the strap around him mouth to -

“Just hold that down there, to keep you nice and quiet, Pet.”

Another tap to the back of his thigh, larger, deep circles being rubbed into the flesh and Ed felt ill. The last person to touch him so intimately had been - well. This really wasn’t the time or place to be thinking of him.

Serpent was making these noises, all encouraging as if the man hadn't just half _drowned_ him, whilst Ed shook and trembled, small whines vibrating his throat as he panted heavily through his nose, which was half blocked from crying.

“That’s it, beautiful. You don’t have to talk anymore. You don’t need a voice no more, you’ve proved that much. That was it- all we needed to know, was that you won’t talk. You didn’t, so you won’t.” Another chuckle.

“Gotta admit though, I am gonna miss your snark. Didn’t think I’d break ya so easily. Thought It’d be a bit of a challenge maybe? I love a good challenge. Alright, Sweetheart, let’s wrap this up. You’re going to feel this one- nothing more than a pinprick, don't worry. Just a bit of electricity to knock you straight out.” Ed heard the buzz too close to his ear and his mouth went dry as his body started shaking.

“Maybe not quite a pinprick, huh? Maybe more like… a stab wound. Yeah that sounds about right,” The unnervingly casual tone was the last thing Edward heard over the sickening hum of electricity before a blinding pain sliced through the back of his neck and his whole body jolted with the force.

His eyes rolled into the back of his skull.

It was over for today.

 

* * *

 

  
A pedestrian hastily jumped out of the road as Roy punched the gas pedal and drove as fast as the rusty old dust bucket would allow him to. That was a lie, the vehicle he was driving through the city like a madman in was actually a damn work of art, a military issued car, looking all shiny and new. But Roy didn't care about the incorrectness of his thoughts. All that mattered was getting there.

Roy positively burned his eyes into the road in front of him and could feel Alphonse’s own gaze on him. All he could do was drive - he would have time for that later. Right then, it didn't matter.

But it _did_ matter, goddammit, he couldn't just ignore the boy’s confusion.

“Elric, if you stare at me any harder I don't think my jacket is going to come out of it without a brand new hole burnt into it.”

He heard Alphonse gulp guiltily and slide his hand across the misted window of the car.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but you haven't said anything about where we're going. I mean, I assume we’re heading to our lodgings, which is fine, I have the key, but - _why_? Why the change of pace?”

Roy sighed and gripped the steering wheel so hard that he was sure his fingers would leave dents in the leather.

“Correct. We’re going to your place. I need to check something out. I- I can’t say much, not now. Just trust me.”

He had to stay vague, until he knew for sure there were alone: for all he knew, someone could have tampered with the car and bugged it. The less Alphonse and Havoc knew at this point, the less likely there’d be any chance of a slip up.

That must grabbed Havoc’s attention if the sharp twist of a neck from the seat next to him was any inclination.

“Wait, what? What did you see in that article, Chief?” Jean looked at Roy questioningly and furrowed his eyebrows as if trying to come up with the answer himself, eyes narrowing in concentration. Roy spared a glance at the man, just long enough to see his expression before turning back to the road ahead. He swallowed almost painfully.

“I'm not sure, Havoc. I really don't know.” _Liar_.

With the conversation effectively destroyed, Roy focused on racing through the streets of Central as safely as possible. Okay, as _fast_ as possible. He gritted his teeth and pushed forwards, before launching through a crossroads at a terrifying speed.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Roy, but was only really about 6 minutes, the party of three plus the poor vehicle that had been beaten like an old labour mule arrived at their destination, quicker than was legal. Oh well. Roy couldn’t even _pretend_ to feel guilty about speeding. 

Roy stamped his foot on the break without even slowing the car down before completely stopping and collected his breath for a second, simultaneously giving Alphonse and Havoc a moment to make sure they weren't going to vomit. When he was convinced that he wasn't going to end up with another’s sick on him, Roy kicked at the door of the vehicle, intending to open it. He realized after that the only way to open the door was to use the handle.

Fifty seconds after the car had come to a halt, two fully grown adults and one young man exited, two of which now looked only slightly green. Roy shifted his vision all around him, silently making sure they hadn't been followed. It was all clear, no one had come up behind them. It never hurt to be paranoid.

Smoothing out his jacket, the man made his way to the front door with long, purposeful strides. He vaguely accounted for his two followers as he inhaled deeply and stood in front of a pine wood door. From the outside, it looked like any normal building, standard door, standard windows and standard walls. It looked the same from the inside, at least it had before from the one time he had been there. However, only those that knew the inhabitants could fathom any kind of idea of the wonders, and quite possibly the insanity, that lied behind the entrapment of the house.

Roy was startled out of his musings by a polite cough, “Excuse me Colonel, but can I get to the door?”

He blinked a few times at Al, not quite comprehending the question. It was then that he saw the outstretched arm with a clasped hand that contained a long silver key. The piece of metal had tens of small protruding bumps and sunken dents along the portion that would usually fit into a lock.

“Oh yes, of course, Alphonse.” Roy apologized and shifted out if the way to give the young man access. Looking again at the key as it disappeared into the lock beneath the door handle, he raised a shaped eyebrow at the object.

Alphonse must have saw his gesture, because the boy coughed a little, apparently embarrassed. “Ah, umm. Well, you see, when we first moved in here, Brother was messing around with a dodgy array he found in one of Dad’s old books, and well… It fired off a projectile of wood and carpet, straight from the floor, and then shot into the door lock and handle before ricocheting off and breaking a glass he left on the counter. After the initial shock, I saw that the lock had been completely mangled and _politely_ asked Ed to fix the damage he had caused. So, Brother being Brother, he ended up adding his own twist to it and now we have a lock and key that require 67 different mechanisms to open. Needless to say, we don't have anyone breaking in.” Alphonse struggled a little for breath, recovering for all that he had said in such a small amount of time, and then gradually pushed open the door.

He started walking into the hallway of his own house, when he realized that neither Roy nor Havoc had followed him in yet. The boy turned and lifted an eyebrow at Roy. The man was still sorting through the story just dumped on his lap and let out a hearty chuckle when he realized how Ed that was. Alphonse just smiled at him and twisted away again, leading the way into the Elric’s home.

As soon as Roy entered, a strong scent hit him, sending his mind reeling for a moment. The house smelled just as he’d remembered, like old books, a scent that only ancient worn pages plagued by use could hold, with hints of coffee and something else trailing after. The first one was an undeniably _Elric_ trait, however, the other two were an Edward speciality. What was that last one? It smelt almost… herb-y? It carried Roy back to his younger years, before Ishval. Ah, that was it, Rosemary. He had grown a small plant of it and tended to it with all the care a mother would to her newborn baby. Unfortunately, it had died, withered away. It was almost ironic that the pitiful thing he had cared most about had been turned into a warped and mauled corpse at the same time as, and in much the same way he had been burning the bodies of the innocently manipulated, in run down shambles of once beautiful cities.

Rot shook his head minutely, he couldn’t think those kind of things anymore.

When he raised his head, Roy realized Havoc was throwing a questioning and almost amused expression at him.

“Really, Chief, you sure are spacing out a lot today.” The way the man spoke conveyed humour, but Roy saw through the front and felt the worry and concern emanating from him that all of them had culminated over the days since Edward’s arrest.

After what appeared a lifetime, all three of them were safely inside and were spreading about the two story building, Roy in search of something.

Alphonse got his attention by clearing his throat and looking at him expectantly. “So, now that we're inside, do you mind telling us what we're here for, Sir?” The young man’s tone wasn't exactly disrespectful, more impatient.

“I need you both to look for things that are out of place, suspicious.”

Havoc coughed a bit at that, “Sir… this is the Elric’s that we're talking about here. Nothing's going to be in place.” At that, Roy let out a dry laugh, his amusement increasing further still when Alphonse turned a dirty look on Jean.

“I'm sorry, Second Lieutenant, but what do you mean by that?”

Before either could say anymore, Roy raised a gloved hand, “We need to get on. Havoc, go check round the back of the house. Alphonse, you and I will go upstairs. We’ll start in your Brother’s bedroom.”

They went their separate ways, Havoc departing to the back with an almost mocking salute, and Roy and Al climbing the staircase one after the other. As Alphonse reached the summit, he diverted left into a previously-closed-now-shoved-open room with Roy following close behind. As he stepped inside, Roy was confronted by a scattered library of books.

“I apologize for Ed’s behaviour, Colonel. I tell him to clean up after himself but when he really gets into something, he completely forgets about organization.” The youngest Elric provided for his brother’s sake and a world weary sigh escaped from his lips. As if he was just out, and would be back any second. He was pretending, for both their sakes.

Roy shook his head fondly at the scene and dismissed Alphonse’s concerns with a wave of his hand. He could _tell_ it was Edward’s room: clothes were kind of folded but kind of just crumpled into a heap on the bed, which was made halfheartedly with more creases in it than Roy had seen in his life. There were a few pictures hanging above his bed; one was of the two brothers after Ed had became a State Alchemist, where Alphonse was still a suit of armour and the smile on Ed’s face was still a touch haunted. Another was from about a year ago, of Alphonse, Elicia and the Rockbell girl sitting on the Hughes’ front lawn.

There was a few more of Al and Ed being Al and Ed, and the last one, Roy was surprised to see, had him in. Okay, not _just_ him, there were other people, like Riza and Havoc and the Xingan Emperor and the Armstrong’s, but still. He recognised the photo as the one that was taken the night of Edward’s eighteenth birthday. His chest fluttered at the memory. _Not the time_.

He forced himself away from the photographs, instead began leafing through the various books and papers on the desk, overflowing onto the floor. Alphonse did the same, and they proceeded in silence. He pocketed many interesting looking arrays, a few notes in scrawled Amestrian, and was mid way through sorting out his findings, when he spotted a peculiar book poking out from underneath the pillow on the bed. He frowned and maneuvered his body to reach over and pluck it from its hiding place. Ed must had been in a rush the morning he had been taken ad the book that was so obviously supposed to have been hidden had fallen out of its secret cove.

Roy picked it up and lifted it into the air to present to Al. “Does this mean anything to you?”

The boy took it from Roy’s hand and turned it over a few times in his own. “Judging by how new it is and the fact that it's leatherbound, I would say that this is one of Brother’s journals. Recent, too.”

Roy contemplated for a moment before instructing Alphonse, “Take it, please. Keep it safe. If _anything_ can tell us about what was going through Ed’s mind leading up to his arrest, it will be his journal.”

The boy nodded and pocketed the decently sized book. Roy scanned the room more thoroughly, trying to pick up on any inconsistencies and ended up clapping eyes on a pile of arrays that he'd never seen before. He eyed them cautiously and carefully picked them up, making sure not to directly touch the ink on the paper.

He was about to open a draw in a set of 3 stationed next to the wall furthest away from the door when he heard a scrabbling sound coming from the stairway. Roy creased his eyebrow in confusion.

Walking out of the room and looking down at the steps, he almost collided head on with his Second Lieutenant. “Whoa, Havoc, what’s got you in such a rush?”

The man was huffing at the exercise from insanely sprinting up the stairs and probably reaching maxium velocity for only two seconds before scream whispering.

“Sir, Alphonse, I don’t mean to worry you… but _\- I think there's somebody in the house_.”

Roy snapped his head to the side the instant the news was relayed. The confusion that rushed through his head and through his veins fluttered, dampened by the instinct to survive that had been drilled into him by countless superiors of the Military over years and years.

The boy by his side was not so fortunate in his conditioning, he may have suffered years of training but none of which had been in the organization so tied to Roy’s soul. Alphonse took longer to process what Havoc had said; he blinked and gulped and shook. “B-but, _how_? How did they get in? No one was following us, I don't underst-” The boy was cut off, a hand fluttering in front of his face intended to shush him.

“ _Quiet_ , Alphonse. We’ll deal with that later, we need to get out now. Follow me.” Al stiffened and his eyes hardened. Good. Roy would have felt guilty about being so harsh, so hard on the poor boy- but no, he couldn't. There were more pressing matters at hand.

_He had to be cautious._ He signalled that Havoc should lie low and take up the rear; they needed someone to watch their backs and whilst Al was a good fighter- _exceptional_ , actually- the young man had no stealth or militaristic field training. Roy glanced at the two that were now behind him meaningfully and nodded once before he braced himself against the railing and stalked down the stairs as silently as he could. He raised his arm, hand clasped ready to snap.

One foot touched the floor at the bottom and he swiveled his head around to check the area. _There_ , dark navy. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he sharply twisted his body to the direction of the sighting. Roy tried to signal to Havoc once again with two fingers thrusting to the left, before realizing that the man couldn’t see him over Alphonse’s head.

“Kitchen, 9 o’clock, movement.” Terse instructions left his mouth and Havoc slipped past him and Al in response. The man’s posture, previously set with an underlying subtle humour, had tensed completely in the past forty five seconds. Jean crept forward, stopping at the wall connected to the doorframe as he slowly slipped his gun through the space into the kitchen.

Roy’s eyes followed his lieutenant’s every movement, his throat aching as he swallowed a stuck lump. Once Havoc had reached the door, Roy recreated the man’s steps, only diverting upon finding himself one step in front of the door.

_Careful_.

He thought to himself as he stuck a gloved hand through the open doorway, sliding next to Jean's. Turning his attention to his ears, he listened for any action within the room. Scuffing, _There_.

There was half a second between Roy hearing the sound of foot against granite and something brutally grabbing his extended arm, yanking him into the kitchen. He managed to right himself for a second- thank God he had instincts, without them he'd be flat on his face- before he was suddenly flailing through the air; a hearty kick shoving into his gut.

_Get… up, get up!_

Mind troubled by flashing lights, Roy was barely aware of his surroundings. He vaguely recognized that he had been chucked into a wall.

A clashing squawk made its way through the haze of his thoughts, closely followed by the tell tale sparking of a transmutation.

_Alphonse_?

When Roy managed to pry his eyes open, whoever it was that had attacked him was almost flailing in his frenzy. He looked up further to find Alphonse with his hands pressed to the floor, blue lights illuminating his face and then the man was pinned to the floor by a bracket of stone. The marks of the opposite wall showed where Al had ripped the rock away with his alchemy and trapped the attacker in two heavy arms.

The offender, obviously male, was struggling to pull one of his arms out of its cage.

If he was in full control of his senses, Roy might have snorted. There was no way he could escape from Al’s handywork-

Oh shit, “Alphonse, duck!” Roy warned desperately at the boy. The man had managed to rip free his arm and was about to ruthlessly punch Al in the abdomen.

With the aid of Roy’s warning, Alphonse narrowly avoided their attacker’s fist. Neither the boy nor Roy noticed, however, an escaped leg coming up from the confines of the floor. Luck was on their side, because, apparently, Jean had. Bam. Within seconds the butt of his gun had thwumped the offender over the head, effectively knocking him out.

Thank God Roy had such a capable team.

Struggling to right himself from his hole in the wall- he’d need to pay for that-, he pushed himself up onto his own two feet and shakily stumbled towards Al, his eyes trained on the floor to make sure he didn't trip over himself.

‘ _Crash_.’

Shit. Roy looked up, Havoc was on the floor-crumpled. Something loomed over him, clouded by the dust and shadow of the room, please be alright. Even in the state he was in, Roy rushed to assist his fallen subordinate.

The man was large, extremely so. He was almost Armstrong large, that was a feat in itself. Roy was almost intimidated, but the way the man held himself and the lack of any arrays made it clear that he was most certainly not an Alchemist. Lucky.

One kick there, another there. He took a punch to the jaw, that's gonna smart, and a roundhouse to the shoulder. Luckily for him, Al had his back and througly wacked the man around the head with a loftily strong arm.

Breathe in. And out. _In. Out_.

Body still tense form the fight, Roy shrunk into a stealth stance. Was there anymore of them, waiting in the shadows to catch him off guard? He checked the room adjacent to the kitchen, no one there. To his knowledge, there must have only been two of them, a standard military pairing.

Roy brought a rugged, filthy hand that was littered with small abraises to his face and dragged it over his features, an act of exhaustion _. What the hell had just happened_?

That was a question he had been asking far too frequently recently for his liking.

Alphonse was blinking rapidly over to the left of him, and Havoc had managed to slowly bring himself up onto his knees, so that he was sitting on his legs. The man had suffered quite a few bruises and small injuries, but nothing major. The same went for Al and Roy himself.

The youngest Elric must have shook himself out of his shocked stupor, as Roy heard a small cough before,

“Uhh… Colonel, Sir, forgive my language but, what the _hell_ just happened.”

Havoc let out a breathless laugh, as would be expected of his character. Despite himself, and everything that had actually happened, Roy couldn’t help but release a dry snort.

“Well, Alphonse. I don't think I can tell you that. What I can tell you, is that we now have two unconscious bodies on our hands. From the looks of things, they're Military.” He paused, _he had always had a flare for the dramatic_. 

“Whatever your brother got himself into, I think we just got dragged into it.”

 

 

 


	5. Siren in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy meets with an old friend who proves to know a lot more than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is the introduction of our OC who I think is quite sweet :) we have great plans for all the fma characters (don’t worry, Ling shall arrive soon!) but we needed a few more. Hopefully it’s not too jarring? Anywho, enjoy, and look forward to some Ed in the next chapter. Much love! Xoxox

_Shit, his head hurt so damn hard._

Roy was sitting in the backseat of the car, clutching his injured head that pounded and pounded into his skull, the pain was almost unbearable. (Un)Luckily for him, Alphonse was sitting next to him and devotedly trying to pry Roy’s hands from his own cranium before he gave himself blood clot, already dry sanguine liquid trailing down his neck.

“Sir, you really must let me attend to your wound, it's bleeding!”

Alphonse’s sweet alto voice raked treacherously through Roy’s brain and skewered any hope he had of escaping with a sharp kebab. No one could say no to Al.

“Alphonse, it was not _me_ who was shot a week ago. It should be me looking at _your_ wound. How is it? They didn’t disturb it? The alchemy didn’t open the stitches?”

Al shook his head, though his shoulder looked a little stiff and he winced pretty often. “It’s fine, Colonel. Just a little sore. Don’t divert my attention, I see what you’re trying to do.” Damn.

Looking up was a mistake, Al had equipped his puppy-dog eyes. If he hadn't already been resigned to his fate, that would have certainly done it - _no chance in hell that he could say no now_. Sighing deeply, Roy removed his calloused hand from his head and allowed Al to work his healing magic on his injury. Alphonse stitched the bleeding cut ranging from Roy’s forehead back into the top of his skull; it wasn't a deep wound but head cuts bleed exceedingly so.

When the young blond was working, a question formed in Roy’s mind, “Alphonse, may I inquire as to _why_ you have the necessary equipment for _stitches_ on hand?”

Not seeming at all smug, true to Al’s nature, the boy replied informatively, “It never hurts to be prepared, Colonel. Besides, with Ed as a brother, one learns to anticipate injury.”

“Fair point well ma- hey!”

Roy finished with an unexpected shout as he was mercilessly flung into the car door, Alphonse following after with a sharp cry and disrupting the start of the stitches now in Roy’s head. Gravity had forced them to the left side of the car with thanks to Havoc’s driving skills; however, on the brightside, at least they weren't being chaperoned by Hawkeye. The mere thought sent shudders through Roy’s body.

“Sorry!’ Jean’s yell emitted through the squeal of struggling tires. “Anyway, next left, right Chief?”

Having righted himself, Alphonse questioned both other men in the car, “Where _are_ we going? Colonel, Sir, you really are starting to pick up a habit of not telling us these things.”

Roy felt his body tense at Al’s innocent words, the reminder of the situation hit him like a tonne of bricks he evaluated his answer. “A cabin. We are going to the assigned meeting place, the cabin is secluded so whatever happened with those two men back there shouldn't happen again.”

A look of understanding dawned on Al’s face, as if the pieces had just clicked. “The newspaper.” He said, his gaze piercing into Roy’s own. “ I knew there was something off about it, and I had my doubts as soon as you freaked out, but - _how_? I know that it would have to be a code or something, but so many variables rely on you _actually_ seeing it. Not to mention, the slim chance that no one else would pick it up, the actual _method_ used to get the message in there- I would bore you with the statistics on the likelihood of that but it seems as if luck is on our side.”

Roy took a while to process the boy’s words, staring at the blackened world outside of the car window. Alphonse was right. It was unlikely, but that article, the way it _was_ phrased, the fact that when they had got to Edward’s notes men were already there ready to snatch them up - it was no coincidence.

“In the military, Alphonse, we all learn certain key phrases and ciphers of code, the standard military ones. The ones I’m sure you will be familiar with - accessible to anyone who bothers to learn them. My ex-superior officer, however, taught me differently. We had a series of key words, one of which being ‘songbird’ which just so happened to be slipped into the article. A little strange, don’t you think? That immediately stood out to me and let me know that something was off. Not only that, but a simple skip code was used in the last three paragraphs: ‘Check’, ‘metal’ and ‘notes’. Subtle enough, yet easy to find if you’re looking for it. I found it in less than a minute. He always said that in an emergency I would be ‘prepared’. I never knew what he meant by that, although I think I do now.”

From the front seat Havoc let out a low whistle, “Are we going to _him_ , Sir?” Yes, that was right. Havoc would have remembered him; they’d met before.

“We are. He’s changed location but kept me posted, so you’ll need to follow my directions carefully.”

“Colonel,” Alphonse piped up again, done for the topic of codes and ciphers (for now) and extremely curious as to who the man could be. “Who _is_ this man? He must be an ally, not to mention high up. He would have have to had many people on the inside to pull of that stunt.”

Roy rubbed a hand against his now fully cleaned and stitched head and smiled slightly at old memories. “He’ll prefer it if he tells you himself, the man's a little dramatic like that, not that he’d ever acknowledge it though.”

 

* * *

 

Upon Roy’s instruction, Havoc drove into a alcove of trees and pulled the car to a stop, the leaves and branches providing a barrier of sight to the vehicle. Roy hadn’t needed to say why, both Jean and Al understood the necessity that they weren't followed.

They all unloaded themselves from the car and started walking away. The second lieutenant and the young blond both stopped simultaneously and looked at Roy expectantly, who rolled his eyes at their fake lost puppy looks before strolling through vegetation on to a barely marked path.

“Come on then, we should get there soon.”

And so proceeded a five minute trek through overgrown habitat, after three of which Roy had cursed Havoc and sworn to demote him if he lit another cigarette next to dry wood.

Eventually, the trees had started thinning out and they came to a halt at the beginning of a clearing, a single wooden building stood proud in the middle. The wood was well kept, but still showed the signs of age, a few large superficial cracks running along the grain from wear of weather. Through the single window that faced them, Roy could see an orange hued light shining into the slightly darkening sky -the effect was surprisingly welcoming.

Havoc was huffing a little - while his attention was diverted from looking where he was going (smoker) he’d whacked himself pretty hard on a low hanging branch, stumbling a little and trying to uphold some dignity. Some of the tension Roy felt in his shoulders was lifted by the amusement caused by his subordinate, and he allowed himself a dry chuckle, before guiding Alphonse towards the small establishment.

“This is us. Wait here, I need to make sure all is well.”

He left the two, assuming they could behave themselves for literally twenty seconds before swiftly moving towards the front left window, and giving five, crisp, evenly spaced knocks. He waited three counts before repeating the same sequence again, double the time. A few beats, and suddenly the homely wooden door was being pushed open and the wizened, familiar face of the General came into view.

Roy couldn’t have stopped the smile from breaking his face if he _tried_.

“Alphonse, Havoc, come on.”

They came bumbling along fairly quick; Alphonse’s green-brown eyes raked over the form of his superior, taking him in and evaluating him in the typical Elric fashion.

Roy’s body immediately morphed into the correct stance, not registering the salute he did - _muscle memory_ \- and blurting out a mechanical- “General Gröhm, sir. It’s good to see you.”

Alphonse approached, albeit slowly, his own salute clear and crisp but a bit hesitant.

“I-Alphonse, Elric, Sir. The younger brother of the Fullmetal Alchemist. It’s good to meet you.” His voice was brave, barely shook on his brother’s title and he looked up at the man with purpose and intent.

Gröhm regarded him carefully, before smiling kindly and laughing slightly. “Fullmetal’s Brother? You look to be a very intelligent and highly skilled young man. But please, stop with the formalities. You too, dear Mustang. I’m Fynnian Braun Gröhm, but call me Gröhm, I beg. I’m long since retired, and my full title takes me back to years I’d rather not remember.” He paused, stepping forward and placing a worn hand on Roy’s left shoulder.

“How are you, Mustang? It’s good to see you. I hear you’ve done some great things - after the whole situation with the late Fuhrer, you’ve really done your job and cleaned things up. Please, if you’re comfortable with it, talk to me as if I am an ally, an equal, and-“ he looked up, eyes wet with tears and memories and oh _god_ -

“A friend.” Roy nodded fiercely, before taking his chances and pulling the sad, haunted man into a hug. He was vaguely aware of the two other men watching with surprise and confusion, but he tuned it out. Gröhm really was a friend; even when he’d been a General he’d always, to the best of his ability, made sure that Roy was content and comfortable with his missions. He had always put Roy first- the person, not the soldier.

_Until Ishval._

Roy swallowed.

“Lift your head, Gröhm. We have much to talk about. There’s no time to be dwelling on past mistakes.”

“Thank you, Mustang.” Gröhm’s eyes were glassy and they shimmered slightly in the warm light of the room. “I mean it.” And Roy was back in the hole - _don't cry don't cry don't cry._

He bit back his tears, at least he thought he did, and managed to acknowledge his old superior with a soft incline if his head and a warm smile upon his face. Gröhm seemed to shake himself clear of his emotions as well, the man blinking once to reduce the water in his eyes and scanning the rest of the group before his gaze ended up settling back on Roy’s own eyes - now successfully tear free.

“Come now, you were right. Let us talk.”

With that, the man swiftly turned and started to lead them over to a set of chairs across the cabin. Turning back, Roy surveyed his team with the same small smile he had given Gröhm, the man’s mere presence a comfort to him. Alphonse and Havoc were both standing dutifully behind him, as they had been throughout the entire conversation, no matter how confused they had been. He gestured with his head for them to come forward and follow him, and he himself followed Gröhm’s retreating back and let himself be hopeful; with the ex-general’s, they would help Ed and find the necessary information for the trial.

Glancing around him as he walked further into the cabin, Roy allowed himself the time to take in the interior; the muted colours were pleasing and a comfort to his eyes, simple but effective.

The wooden walls held a small number of pictures, all a different landscape painted articulately and emotively and made some part of Roy wonder whether the man painted them himself. It wouldn't surprise him, Gröhm had always had many unknown talents- most of which were revealed in the oddest of ways.

The furniture they had been led to was quite old in style, but it looked comfortable - a perfect place to rest and talk. Whilst Roy was observing his surroundings, a question popped into his head and resurfaced his curiosity over something that had been bugging him.

“Gröhm?” The man raised his gaze to Roy once he had gestured for the entourage to seat themselves and had done so himself, “Yes, my boy?” The term of address made Roy faintly amused- it was just so classical to Gröhm’s generation. Roy Mustang was _far_ from a boy, thank you very much.

“How did you know that I would read that particular newspaper? If I hadn't then I would never had seen your code and the whole thing would have been pointless.” Apparently, Roy had said something funny, because the man scoffed and chuckled at his genuine question, even further confusing him.

“Mustang, did you think after that many years spent as your direct superior that I wouldn’t pick up on any of your habits? You always read the same newspaper every day- every new issue you would snap up immediately. I knew that you wouldn't have changed papers because the ‘East City Daily’ is the one of the only _reliable_ sources of actual news available. You used to complain about how fake and ‘ _trashy_ ’ the news outlets were, how they always focused on the unimportant gossip of the city and not the reality. It wasn’t really such a leap to assume you’d read it that day, or at least that you would ask a subordinate to get it for you.”

Roy scowled, for some reason annoyed at how redundant he apparently was. Then he sighed. “Yeah well. Good thing Havoc over here,” - he raised a hand in a thankful gesture towards the man standing awkwardly by the furthest worn sofa- “-brought it to me. And thank _you_ , for writing it.”

He really meant it. The situation was shitty enough as it was, but if they’d have gone to Ed’s place the next day as he’d planned, they would have next to no leads. They’d have all been _taken_.

“You really shouldn’t be thanking me yet. My conscience is far from clear.”

“You were in the Military, of course it isn't.” Came Roy’s playful retort. As serious as the situation was, he had to do something to lighten the atmosphere or he feared he would be smothered by it.

A smirk played upon Gröhm’s lips, “Is this treasonous talk I hear, Mustang?” His face cleared again, however, and his tone became solemn once more. “I am serious, unfortunately, there is something you all must know.”

The words sent shivers of concern through Roy’s system and he could practically _feel_ Alphonse’s apprehension swimming through the air, the way his ex-superior had spoken was worrying and Roy knew that what came next would not be good in any sense of the word. The man seemed to ponder over his words, contemplating how to phrase whatever he was about to say.

“I… was approached about a month ago, by the Military. At least, originally that’s who I thought it was. They wanted to ‘recruit’ me, apparently I was always a trustworthy General, loyal to the _Fuhrer_ , no matter who that would be - not correct, I can assure you.” Gröhm stumbled over his words, quick to assure the company of his loyalties and appearing eager to finally tell someone his story. Roy nodded at the man to continue on.

“Mustang, I’m sorry, but they threatened my life. Not just mine, but yours as well - they know that I have no blood relatives left, and I suppose they assumed I would hold my old subordinates as my only ‘family’, they were right. I had to do as they said, I couldn't risk the consequences. Roy- I- I am truly sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Gröhm? Please just tell us what they wanted- who they were, please.” Roy didn’t want to be held in suspense, he needed to know _anything_ that could possibly help Edward.

The ex-general looked away, guilt etched into his eyes and mouth, before raising his head and staring straight into Roy’s own eyes.

“I- I can't say, not completely. But what they do there- it isn't right, it's so, _so_ wrong. Every time I close my eyes, it comes back. I thought the Ishvalan war-“ Roy couldn’t help shuddering at the look in Gröhm’s eyes. “-Was bad. Let me tell you that the things I saw down there - I don’t think will leave me for the rest of my life. And the worst thing is-“ he paused, before opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out.

He heard Alphonse audibly gasp next to him and stiffen. The man had the darkened print of a clear transmutation circle etched into the surface of his tongue. Roy was at a loss.

“Is it safe to assume that if you speak of the specifics as to what you saw down ‘there’, any names involved, dates and so on - they’ll kill you?And this circle was put here at the beginning of whatever devilish operation they were hosting so you’d never talk.” His words rang into the small space, and Alphonse was gripping the coffee table so tight it looked painful.

“That is correct. It’s not just my life I am worried about. Young Elric, your Brother, he is not safe. We must act soon, or fear the loss of Fullmetal. I don't know what his condition is, but it certainly isn't good.” Then a pause, for effect. “Mustang, your subordinate is in _serious_ danger.”

Roy was - shocked? More than that. It was almost disappointment. No, no. He shook the doubts from his mind, _he did it for you, for you,_ the other part of his brain reminded helpfully, _you would have done it too, for any of them_.

 _But he’s with them, the ones who took Ed_.

No, he isn't, he didn't have a choice. He spared a glance at Al- the boy was definitely surprised. And angry, furious.

“You know where my brother is?! Tell me! Tell me right now!” The young man’s eyes were burning, and steam was positively erupting from his ears, spit sailed through the air as he demanded Gröhm answer him.

“Young one, I cannot do what you ask-”

“ _Bullshit_!”

Al screamed into the man’s face, interrupting his apology. Alphonse was clearly over-tired and worried and Roy couldn’t _blame_ him for the outburst. He wanted to do the same.

An unexpectedly serene voice cut through the atmosphere created by Alphonse’s shriek. “Al, you have to calm down. We won’t find the Boss by shouting at one of the only leads we have. He explained his reasons, and I understand you want to find Ed, we all want him back, but you've got to listen to him.”

Havoc’s reasoning surprised Roy, he thought that the man would have been at least slightly angrier. Having thought that, the closer he looked at his second lieutenant, the more signs of restraint he could see. The clenched fists that Jean had attempted to hide behind his back, the tense posture - they all showed how calm the man really was himself. Roy had to hand it to him though, it was well concealed.

As for Roy himself, “Havoc’s right Alphonse. You must be reasonable here. Can you truly tell me that if a group of militaristic men approached you and threatened the life of your brother, you wouldn't choose the same?”

When all he received was silence and a shameful droop of the head, Roy reached over to clasp the boy’s shoulder, warmly and reassuringly. The boy was breathing deeply, a dark flush of embarrassment and shame painted across his face, And he raised his head so that his hair flopped forward and faintly concealed his eyes.

“Mr Gröhm, Sir… I apologize for my outburst, I didn't consider your reasoning. Well I did but, ah, I’m not really thinking straight.” The boy cratched the back of his neck and gave an awkward chuckle.

It was apparent that the words brought Gröhm confusion, but as to what, Roy didn't know. “My dear boy, you have nothing to apologize for, it is I who should be kneeling in front of you and proclaiming my wrongs in repentance for allowing this to happen for so long.”

Alphonse swallowed next to Roy, the boy’s lip trembling slightly and Roy knew that Al probably didn't trust himself to speak, so he stood in for him.

“Gröhm, it’s alright. We aren't angry, we all understand why you had to do it, but perhaps you can help us.” His eyes widening and shining, the man’s face split into a smile.

“Thank you, all three of you. Of course I will help you, as much ad I can anyway.” The two oldest males traded faint smiles, Roy pleased that there was no animosity between them, before his own slipped from his lips only to be replaced immediately by a frown. Something Jean had said hadn't made sense.

“Havoc, you said ‘one of the only leads’, as far as I’m aware, we didn't have any up until now.”

The man flushed somewhat guiltily at the inquiry, “There was something I was supposed to give you.” Jean pulled his satchel off of his side and brought it down to the low coffee table in between them, sliding open so everyone could see its contents.

Roy couldn't make out what was inside, all he could see was what looked like rolled up piece of paper, “What is it, Havoc?” The man reached a rough had down into the bag, a frown settling on his face as he concentrated to pull the object up carefully. As he unloaded the bag of the two objects he had found, Roy realized that the rolled up paper was in actuality a map carefully pulled together so numerous pins would not fall out. The next thing Jean’s hand pulled out and revealed was a thick book, similar in appearance to the journal they had found, however, much larger.

“Havoc, where did you find this?” His second lieutenant rubbed at his forehead for a moment before replying slowly, “You know those two guys that jumped us? Well when we moved the bodies outside, the larger one had something tucked safely in his jacket, I see the map poking out and thought maybe it was important. They way that they were placed in such a hurry made me think that they had found them at your place, Al.”

Alphonse studied the pieces and raised a delicate eyebrow, “At ours? They must be Brother's… I can’t remember seeing that journal before. Is it okay if I open this map up here?” When he received a nod from all three men present, Al efficiently cleared the table, carefully placing the journal on a seat to the left of them so as to not inadvertently damage it. Roy watched attentively as the boy unrolled the paper onto said table.

When the contents were revealed, Roy was actually surprised - the map showed in full detail, Central City, in all it’s glory. It wasn't the outlines of the city that shocked him however, but the multitude of various markings littering the surface; some red, some blue.

“Young Alphonse, do you know what this means?” Gröhm’s voice carried loudly through the silence, slightly startling Roy. He looked at Al, the boy’s face awash with confusion. “This map… I’ve seen it before, Ed put it up on the wall ages ago, I just thought he wanted to memorize the city. But, I haven't seen it like this. Sir, these markings, they weren't there before- Ed must have added them recently, I have no clue what they mean. It seems that Brother was investigating something, but what that could be, I don’t know.”

“And what about the Boss’ book?”

Alphonse moved to the seat, gently lifting the object, “This is definitely one of Ed’s journals, ” He leafed through the book, the crease in between his eyebrows becoming more and more prominent the further he flicked, “but- what? This doesn't make sense. There's so many languages in here, look, Xingain. Brother doesn't speak that- or Cretan, but it's all here.”

Well that was definitely _odd_ , Roy himself only barely spoke a tiny piece of Cretan. Ed was a genius, but _still_ , to learn something without his brother knowing. Well.

He cleared his throat, simultaneously wiping himself clean of doubts, they certainly couldn't help now, “So we have one map with marks all over that no one understands, and a journal in so many languages that the Investigations department would be put out. Any ideas?”

His last hopeless question rose a bout of dry chuckles from all except the ex-General, who instead tried to stifle a sigh that was full of exhaustion.

“The sewers. I can't say anymore than that, just, _look at the sewers_. You need to build a case, and _quickly_.”


	6. I don't believe in Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay hello again! This chapter is a little different in that the structure is more disjointed to mimic Ed’s state of mind. It also includes the first of many flashbacks, kinda saying that when ever Ed’s mind/body can’t take what is actually happening to him, he reverts back to pleasant memories with his favourite people. Hopefully it’s not too confusing-the big chuck of italics is where the flashback begins. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

_He couldn't- he couldn't take it. He needed it to stop- to just stop._

His leg contorted brutally backwards, he could feel it jolted up right, perpendicular to his torso. His entire body was flipped upside down. He had struggled futilely to break free of the chains holding him up, wrapped agonizingly around his flesh foot and matching arm, but his efforts had come to no avail - at least, it _had_ been painful, now the area was completely numb, devoid of blood as it trickled through his body, down to his head. He had fainted multiple times, whenever he woke up he was too disillusioned to count, his mind barely hanging on as it mumbled to him to get _out_ before slipping away again.

Sometimes, when he was at least semi-lucid, he felt that he could hear the sweet ring of his younger brother’s voice drifting into his senses. Once, he swore that he even made out Mustang through the ringing in his ears. They both told him to _hang on_.

How ironic.

His arm was bound much the same as his leg, twisting mercilessly and wrapped with a leather strap, and flesh that the binds clutched to was raw with the abuse of the aggressive scraping of chain against skin. He had woken up like that, swinging an unknown height from the ground and twisted savagely into a violently cruel position. Ed had managed to stay conscious for the first twenty minutes after he had found himself strung up, before inevitably fainting for the first time in a line of many.

Saliva had leaked out the sides of his mouth and escaped from the confines of the gag, it slid down his face, slow and disgusting. He just needed to _move_.

 

It wasn’t as if he would know if anyone even came in, anyway. He couldn’t hear anything, nothing except for the static white noise he had woken up to, just to add to his helpless predicament. There was something plugged into his ears, it blocked everything outside of his own head, so he couldn’t sleep or think or even feel and it was honestly making him insane.

That was part of _his_ plan, he guessed. Slowly take away every bit of freedom he had until he literally lost his mind. It was working.

He whimpered softly as he swung nauseatingly in a perpetual state of unchanging cramp and white noise.

_Please._

* * *

 

 

He must have blacked out again, because the first thing he knew was that His throat was burning from the fire of the stale air rushed through his nose and into his lungs, the passage scratching against itself.

_Something was wrong._

He tried to check his limbs but they were all inaccessibly crushed together in a newly agonising position. Someone had moved him and strapped him the opposite way to before; he may not have been able to see or hear, but he could still tell which way gravity was mercilessly pulling him to. His joints ached and screamed at him from the change of direction they had been forced to undertake, the muscles of his legs stretched in discomfort against his body and the skin of his arms flailing in a twisting circle.

Why was this happening?

 _How_ was it happening? Why had no one come for him? Why the _hell_ was he still fucking _here?_

Surely they were looking for him, they had to be. _God, please._

* * *

 

_Pain. Agony._

Pain was all he could feel, it rushed from down his body and ran up his back in tendrils and fragments. Ed could feel it coming somewhere near his inner thigh, the underside of the soft skin burnt and fizzing. There was nothing over the _continuous_ static, the sound accompanied by the _pain_. Blind fear fractured through his mind. With no senses except for taste and smell - _how useless_ \- he had no comprehension of what was happening.

What- what the hell was it?

He shook - flailed - convulsed. _Shit shit shit._ He barely had the sense to move his tongue back into his mouth as far as humanly possible as a jolt of electricity fryed through his body. It had to be electrocution, nothing else could _sing_ through bone and flesh like that, nothing else could cause so much brutality. If he hadn’t realised, he would be dead right now, tongue snapped of by his own teeth. Blood would have filled his mouth and dripped down the sides of his mouth, staining the gag and mixing with the saliva. At least, thank _God_ he had thought of that.

Fear was ever present in his thoughts, tumbling through his brain in distorted segments. His half-unconscious state was shattered and broken into unrepairable pieces. If his eyes were uncovered, they would be shifting from left to right to up to down in a hyperbolic frenzy- in fact, Ed could feel them flailing under his eyelids in discomfort.

He thought that that would be it, he would be allowed to faint back into a miserable slumber. Whatever it was had other intentions. Another shock of writhing disgust broke through his torso, this time originated from the small of his back. It forced him down, to push hard into cold, flaky concrete that lay below him-

Wait, _what?_

Someone must have lowered him down to the floor gently enough not to jostle him, but fast enough that he didn’t awake naturally. It seemed that add had gotten his wish, he had finally been brought down, only to be subjected to whatever _torture_ this was.

He _almost_ missed just hanging there, swinging constantly and _alone_. It was better than the pain. One more time- once more and he was finished, he couldn’t take anymore, please.

_No more._

* * *

 

 

_They had been sitting on the same train for hours, as the climate outside got gradually colder and colder and they all had to huddle together for warmth. Ed curled his disguise tightly around himself - a dark blue coat lined with thick white fur to keep out the cold, his leather trousers (because in minus temperatures nothing warmed his legs better) and adjusted his chestnut braid. The latter was courtesy of Mustang who had told him that his and Al’s colouring was not conspicuous in the slightest, and so after a couple boxes of semi-permanent hair dye and coloured contacts Ed and his brother looked a bit more regular._

_Alphonse, come to think of it, looked identical save for his coat was in a lighter blue colour and his contacts changed his eyes from green to brown. Mustang had also begrudgingly worn a disguise (‘You’re the Flame Alchemist. Anyone who doesn’t know those eyes and hair must be fucking blind.’)_

_The older man donned the same furry coat in a dark black colour, adding to the mystery of his appearance; to cover his striking dark hair he wore an over-the-ear cap, also lined with fur, and his dark eyes were now a startlingly light blue._

_He still looked so hot it should have been unfair._

_Especially now, as they sat together on the train, practically in the same seat because of his cold it was. Alphonse was literally sitting his in lap, his bony ass digging into Ed’s leg and his freezing little hands around his waist._ Parasite.

 _Mustang, the bastard, had his arm around both of them, tucked over Ed’s shoulder and radiating the most heat,_ more _than replacing the warmth that his younger brother was stealing and Ed couldn’t stop himself from leaning into him. His scent was making him drowsy, as was the heat of the other two males and he shut his eyes, shivering finally coming to an end._

_It was only when Mustang let out a low: “We’re almost there, Edward,” that he jolted back into an alert state. Mustang didn’t remove his arm from him and Ed didn’t try to remove it for him. Alphonse had his face buried in Ed’s neck and every breath he made was a little ticklish, so he gave a small squeak of laughter._

_Mustang cleared his throat, and Ed looked over at him. Mistake._

_His expression was so sickly sweet, so full of_ something _that Ed couldn’t help the dark flush that spread across his cheekbones in approximately 0.2 seconds. His eyebrows were upturned as he observed Edward and his brother and seriously Ed felt like he was going to combust._

_He almost did._

_Instead, he looked away, before asking: “So this..Bio-alchemist. You said he was spotted here in Drachma. Why exactly are we disguised again? Run me through it one more time.” That did the trick, because the Colonel quickly wiped the expression of his face and schooled it into a carefully neutral one._

_“You know things are - dicey with Drachma, Edward.” The bastard was refraining from calling him ‘Fullmetal’ lest anyone overhear and it really wasn’t helping that every damn time he said his name Ed would have to suppress a shiver._

_“We technically aren’t allowed over the border this early. Under normal circumstances we’d have to get a visa and that can take months. We don’t have months.” He paused._

_“Are you annoyed because you had to cover up your_ gorgeous _golden locks?” The sarcasm in his voice was clear, and a teasing raise of the eyebrow was a little patronising, even as his left hand unconsciously veered towards Ed’s messy braid._

 _“Nothing like that. Just weird, is all. Haven’t been up north in a while._ _”_

 _Mustang hummed, before looking very interested in his shoes, showing the the conversation was over. Whatever. It wasn’t like Ed_ wanted _to talk to him, anyway._

_They reached the station quickly after that, and Ed must have fallen asleep in the comfortable position because next thing he knew Alphonse was shaking him awake. The brown hair was pretty disorientating, though._

_Nevertheless, he got to his feet and helped the Colonel and his brother with their bags. That was another thing - since they had no idea how long they’d be gone or what kind of conditions they were going to be staying in so packing had been slightly troubling. Al had helpfully reminded him that any dirty clothes could be cleaned with Alchemy, so they had packed enough for about a week._

_Stepping off the train was painful, the cold was a fucking_ punch _in the face. A small part of Ed’s brain wanted to burrow back into the same position, with Mustang’s warm arm around him because he was always warm (damn Flame Alchemist) but he quickly expelled that. He didn’t need him._

 _With a small huff, Ed put an arm around his brother, because if he was cold Al must have been_ freezing _. His brother was still pretty skinny and had no insulation from the elements, and he was already starting to wrap his arms around himself. That wouldn’t do. Ed might have been a bit chilly but there was no harm in sharing the little heat he had, especially as Al gave a small smile of thanks, cheeks ruddy red from the obvious freezing temperatures._

_They walked for some time to the inn that the military had payed for, conversation a little awkward so instead they listened to the howling wind shifting piles of snow._

_Al had started shivering,_ bad _, his fingers going blue, so Ed rubbed his arms a little with his own flesh one, ignore the twinge of pain in his automail port as it began to freeze. Winry, despite her brilliance, could only do so much in a short space of time, and she’d done her best, but ultimately he could tell his limbs were going to cause some problems._

 _His foot caught on a lump of ice and a jolt of pain spiked through his sensitive port and he gave an embarrassing_ whimper _of pain, before coughing and scowling to cover it up._

_Dammit. He could feel Mustang’s eyes on him, and he needed to diffuse this situation._

_“Jeez, ‘m fine. Just tripped.” He still looked sceptical though, and gave an omniscient hum._

_“Just admit it, Edward. Those limbs of yours have way more drawbacks than regular ones.”_

_Ed scowled, of course the bastard knew that he hadn’t had time to instal northern automail._

_“You ever been punched in the face by one? No? First time for everything.” He obviously wouldn’t_ really _deck the Colonel, but it was fun to joke around, especially when the sexy piece of shit gave a small chuckle, which his brain stored away to be replayed at a later date._

_He looked like he wanted to reply, but then his eye caught onto something in the distance._

_“There’s the inn. Hurry, before you both collapse.” A retort was already on Ed’s tongue, but to be honest, at that moment in time he would have rather used his energy to get to the warm inn as fast as humanly possible instead of some half assed comeback._

_That he did, and for the last 100 yards or so he and Al started sprinting, desperate to get out of the cold but reluctant to let go of eachother for fear of losing one another in the near-blizzard weather._

_Mustang gave a shout of annoyance, before he too started running, albeit a bit slower._

_Once all three of them reached the inn, Al’s lips were blue and Ed was rubbing his arms so hard it looked a little painful. Mustang pushed open the door, and the rush of heat was so welcome that it made Ed sigh in relief. “I believe we had accommodation booked under_ Mustang _?” Ed heard his superior say, but he and Al were too busy trying to warm eachother up to pay much attention._

_“Ay,” The gravelly voice of the innkeeper floated through the air. “Can I assume tha’ the double room is for the lovebirds over there?”_

_Ed snapped his head up._ Lovebirds _? Oh. No. No, no no no._

_He stalked his way up to the counter, ignoring Mustang’s cough to conceal his laughter._

_“That’s my brother!” Okay, he sounded a little indignant but seriously._ Nope. Nope nopedy-nope nope.

_“Honestly Edward. Calm down. Perhaps if you two weren’t joined at the hip this kindly man wouldn’t mistake you for lovers.” The amusement in his voice was still too clear and Ed scowled. Alphonse, just raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. He was stood by the small, dying fire trying to return the colour to his fingers._

_“Sorry, but you did say double room?” Mustang continued, looking at the paperwork the man had handed to him._

_“Aye. Sorry about that, lad. Pretty obvious who the lovebirds are now that I look closer at it.”_

_Mustang paused, looking up._

_Ed felt a surge of heat swell up to his face which was strange considering he was still freezing, and surprisingly, Mustang’s pale complexion had two spots of colour high on his cheeks._

_“What do you mean by that?” The Colonel’s voice barely shook, and Ed was impressed. He didn’t think he had the strength to speak at the moment lest he start yelling._

_Alphonse, the traitor, was laughing openly, not nearly as concealed as the Colonel’s earlier amusement._ Asshole.

_“Nothing, Nothing.” The old man said, smiling to himself before handing Mustang two sets of keys. “That’ll be 57-58, dining room is upstairs to the left if you’re hungry - it’ll just be stew and bread tonight but a hot meal is good in this cold.” He nodded, to the door on his left, before hiding his grin in an old book._

_Ed picked up his bag, face flaming, and stomped towards the door. Mustang still looked a little stunned for words and Al was still_ far _too amused._

* * *

 

_Am I dying?_

_Roy… Al… please._

* * *

 

 

The sewers.

No matter how many times Roy rolled the words around his head, he couldn't figure out what Gröhm had meant; there was something wrong with the sewers of Central- or at least one of them- but what? He knew that whatever _investigating_ Roy and his team were to do, it would have to be without their military assets, so it would be down to their wits and… _charms._

“Colonel, Sir?”

Jean was standing to the side of Roy, an expectant expression plastered on his features as the man asked for his attention. It was then that Roy realized he had been staring at the dimly lit, blank wall of his living room for God knows how long. Probably since they had arrived after being hastily ushered out of Gröhm’s house- uh, _cabin._

“Huh? Oh yes, my apologies, Havoc. What were you saying?”

A quirk of the lips squirmed it's way onto the Second Lieutenant’s mouth- as perceptive to Roy’s obliviousness as he always was. “Gröhm told us to look into the sewers, right? So, Sir… what will you have us do?”

Jean must have known what the object of Roy’s musings was, surely. what could they do? They couldn’t just waltz up and start digging around in the sewage- something told Roy that wasn't what his old superior had intended either, he _hoped._ Theoretically the only thing they could do was-

“Havoc, get me that map from your bag. Alphonse, there's a brown file box filled with charts and the like upstairs in the study, would you please fetch it for me?”

With nods of assent from both pertaining males, Roy set to work on clearing his low lying coffee table from meaningless clutter and paperwork (maybe not so meaningless, but Roy had more important things to be worrying about) to make room for the slightly crinkled map Havoc had pulled out of his satchel. There were a few _gentle_ stomps from above his head, a couple more heavier ones, and then a patter of footsteps that trailed back down the stairs in no small amount of speed until there was a fresh faced young man standing in front of him, offering a not-so-well-dusted box, bulging from it’s contents.

Roy gratefully accepted the proffered object in one hand, whilst the other pinned the map to the table so that or didn't completely fold up again. “Ah, thank you, Alphonse.”

His thanks garnered a small, respectful smile from the boy. Roy was happy to see it there.

Roy placed the box to the other corner of the unraveled paper, quickly whipping his hand away just in time, lest it get squished by the surprisingly heavy object. He yanked off the lid and tossed it onto an empty chair behind him and rifled for a long moment to try and find the right paper, it was _somewhere_ here.

“Ahah!”

His two companions leered over Roy’s hands in an attempt to see what he had been dutifully trying to find. “Uh, Chief… what kind of map is that? It looks kinda ...odd.”

Before Roy could respond, Al cut in, “That's a map of all the sewers in Central, am I correct, Colonel?”

“Yes, quite so. I must say I am impressed with your rather specific knowledge, Elric.”

Al flushed slightly, either from the praise or from embarrassment at the remark, Roy couldn't tell.

He took a long, hard stare at both of the maps. Truthfully, he had expected something to glaringly jump out at him, what that would be he didn't know, just _something_. Of course, that didn't happen and Roy just ended up blankly glaring at a piece of paper as though it had just personally offended him. Honestly, what had he thought would happen? It was a damn map after all. There was nothing obvious, everything was as if should have been, no markings of Ed’s that made any sense at all, there were random circles everywhere across the paper, nor were there any out of place printed lines, or-

_Hold on._

Just outside of Central Command, there was an inconsistency between Ed’s marked map and his own. Obviously they were maps of different things, but on Edward's one there was a marking of a sewer line that had been printed on with the original map- not one of Ed’s additions. However, on Roy’s there was nothing, the only sewer that entered into the Command was on the complete opposite side to what was recorded on the other map. Normally, Roy would have said it was an issue of age, but sewers don't just up and move. Actually, Ed had even circled this particular area, _messy, just like Ed_ , but that didn't mean much, an accumulated third of the city was circled…

“Alphonse, Havoc, what do you make of this?” Roy pressed down his own paper on top of the map retrieved from the Elric’s house and pointed to each area, watching his company carefully to see their reaction.

The younger man’s brow furrowed as his genius mind worked to understand, probably creating theories out of thin air and crushing them just as quickly as they were created. Roy would know, that was exactly what he was trying to do too. It wasn't Al that broke the silence as Roy thought it would be, Havoc actually filled that role.

“So, if we're assuming both of these maps are correct- I mean, if they were both _purposefully_ printed like this- and if Ed has circled it, then that means something dodgy is happening there, right?”

Alphonse nodded in agreement, Roy following suit as he sensed Jean was going to continue.

“So, uh… are we going to look, or what? Wait- maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea.”

“Yeah, you're right about that, Havoc. If there really is something odd happening there, it’s directly _in_ Central Command, or near enough. If we were to do any sniffing there, we would be sure to get caught, and that _certainly_ wouldn't help us.”

To his right, Alphonse looked a little wary at the news that they wouldn't be able to actually do anything yet. “But, Sir, Mr Gröhm said that we needed to gather evidence for Ed’s trial fast. Surely we can't do that of we don't investigate our one- _only-_ lead.”

“I didn't say that we couldn't _investigate,_ Alphonse, just that we can't go directly there.” Not that he was sure exactly how they would manage to investigate without ever stepping foot there, but hey, Roy was sure they'd find a way. They always did.

But what could this mean? There was a sewer… that _wasn't_ a sewer- right, okay.

 

“Well, gentlemen. It looks like we have our hands full here.”


	7. High on the beat of a breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole team go on a trip. Roy should start paying more attention.
> 
> (Sorry guys, this chapter isn't very eventful but it's necessary! x)

The Courthouse was exactly as Roy remembered it, subtly stifling and oppressive in all its _impressive_ grandeur. He could only vaguely place the knowledge of the layout of the corridors and rooms, having visited only a few times, thanks to the courtesy of his Military employment.

Roy entered through the massive open door- an unnecessarily overbearing ancient thing- as a multitude of people swarmed their way past him in and out of the overly large building. Once he was safely inside, Roy swivelled behind him to make sure he hadn't lost his companions on the way. He was greeted with an image of Havoc staring gloomily at the stone cold floor.

“Uh, Havoc, is something the matter?”

Instead of the man responding by himself, Lieutenant Hawkeye gracefully stepped in and proceeded to drag the dazed Jean with her the rest of the way through until she reached Roy, the woman’s expression stoic but with a _teeny-tiny_ hint of longsuffering.

She straightened her back and puffed out her chest - not out of pride, rather, Roy saw it as indignance- “I believe someone bumped into him and made him drop his cigarette, Sir.”

_Of course._

“It’s non-smoking anyway, Havoc. Come on.”He inconspicuously rolled his eyes up to the heavens in -was it really _fond?_ \- exasperation and lead his team away from the entrance so as more mishaps didn't occur. Room 3, first floor, 12:30. What was the time now? Roy pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open, 12:15 -fifteen minutes to go. Room three must have been close, so if everything went according to plan they would arrive with enough time to present their evidence to the defense and the judge. They didn't have much, granted- character witnesses of Edward, eye witnesses of the boy effectively killing Father- but they hoped that if Ed didn't admit to anything, the trial would have to be taken further.

Roy stalked through the halls of the decidedly old building, Hawkeye and Alphonse hot on his heels with the rest of his subordinates trailing purposefully behind them. He spared a glance at the boy following him. Al looked tired, exhausted even, like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a long time, but alert and sharp nonetheless- much like Roy supposed he himself looked.

After a couple of minutes of walking and a few wrong turns, they found themselves crowded neatly in front of a slightly smaller door than the entrance, but still much bigger than Roy’s own height. In fact, Armstrong could probably fit inside comfortably. Before entering, he cleared his throat cleanly to gather the attention of his team, “Now, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to be professional, but I feel the need to remind you all of the sentiment. Remember, this is our only chance right now to help Fullmetal.”

His speech garnered solemn nods from everyone, and a small appreciative smile from Alphonse, who was standing as close as he could to the door whilst maintaining a respectful distance from Roy. This prompted Roy to shove the thought of anymore pep talks he might have conjured up, gracefully whirl around to face forwards once more, and confidently yet quietly push open the doors into an already in motion trial.

_Uh…_

His mind must have short circuited, because one minute it was completely blank and in the next a gentle poking was assaulting his back. “Yo, Chief, I know you told us to be professional, and poking you isn’t very, but would you mind walking in? We can’t see anything back here.”

Roy inhaled deeply, puffed out his chest, rotated so he was almost directly in Havoc’s face, and swiftly strode back through the door and into the hall. He made sure his his expression was apathetic, only eerily widened eyes that were pointed at no particular point in front of him were any deviation to his mask.

_What. The. Fuck._

“Colonel, what’s wrong?” Fury’s meek voice wavered into Roy’s ears, not quite doing enough to snap him out of his shock but effectively making him aware of his company.

“Ahem, it seems that there has been a mistake. That is most certainly _not_ Edward’s trial.”

Apparently, Roy had just abruptly walked into a trial for Harold Zuckerman, Central’s own personal, famously elderly pickpocket. Yeah, _definitely_ not Ed.

Alphonse was the first to recover from Roy’s odd behavior, “But sir, this _is_ the date and time that Gr- _he_ told us, isn't it?” The boy to catch himself at the last second.

Yes, it was. Roy was sure of it. He remembered the day the man had told him perfectly.

 

* * *

 

_Roy stood patiently in front of the familiar wooden door of the secluded cabin, waiting for a few moments after relaying the required pattern of knocks to be allowed entry. The door gently swung open to reveal Gröhm dressed in casual and comfortable clothes, the innocent old man look completed with maroon carpet slippers._

_“Ah, Mustang my boy, come in.”_

_Roy did just that, easily maneuvering past the man who was holding the door open for him and stepping into the room politely. Everything was exactly the same as before- not that he had expected anything to be different- why would it be? He wanted to discuss more with Gröhm, to just_ talk _like they used to. However, as much as Roy enjoyed his former superior’s company, the matter of his visit was a purely business one and he had to get back to work before his lunch break was over. “Am I okay to talk?”_

 _Gröhm nodded indulgently in confirmation, “Yes of course, Mustang. My home is quite safe from any prying ears. Now do come sit, would you care for a drink? I have some excellent Brandy… it’s_ somewhere _around here.”_

_Before the man could start rooting around in the various cabinets placed around the room, all of which were -in Roy’s opinion- too low to the ground, Roy placated him with a shush of his hand. “I’m sorry, Gröhm, but I really can't stay for long. I… have a question.”_

_The ex-general smoothed his defined features before replying, “Yes, of course, however, as you know I can’t promise that I can answer it.”_

_Roy chuckled slightly, “Well, it isn't exactly a hard one. I was wondering if you knew the date of Edward’s trial? You said we had to be fast about gathering evidence for it, so I thought that you_ might _have known when it was. Plus, we haven’t seen or heard anything about Edward since the paper declared he was involved with this. That’s pretty sketchy, don’t you think?”_

_“Oh my, I can certainly answer that,” as Gröhm laughed, his tastefully sized moustache twitched along with his upper lip. “If I have my days right… it should be forty eight hours from now. The 27th of May. You are correct though: they’re keeping this very tight. The only reason I know that information is because - is because-" the same saddened look washed in the man’s grey-blue eyes, and Roy sucked in a harsh breath._

_The man seemed to ponder something for a moment, after apparently collecting himself, a slightly wizened hand coming up to stroke his chin. Artfully spattered stubble decorated the surface that his fingers grazed. “Oh yes, you'll need the time. The trial is due to begin at 12:30 pm sharp, but I’m sure I needn't remind you to get there earlier.”_

_Roy hadn’t had much experience Roy offered his old mentor a grateful smile, he was truly thankful for the help the man had provided them recently and hoped that he would continue to do so._

_“Thank you, Gröhm. For everything.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Roy _knew_ he remembered correctly, this was the date Gröhm had told him… so what the hell was going on? He seriously doubted that the ex General would have made such a precarious mistake, but Roy supposed that had to be the case. It was a simple mistake.

“Not to worry, it must just be the wrong date is all. I’ll just have to reconfirm with our old friend.”

All of Roy’s subordinates (plus Alphonse) retained their befuddled expressions, the ones that hadn’t left their faces in the past three minutes.

_Oh shit, Al._

Roy cursed himself for not thinking about the boy sooner, he had been fed a false hope of finally seeing his brother after two weeks of _nothing_ , and had probably entertained the idea of saving him - _today_. Roy had no idea how he must be feeling.

_Well, actually._

No, this was not the time nor place to be shamelessly indulging in selfish self-loathing.

Roy turned his attention from his entire team nd singled his focus onto Alphonse. The boy _looked_ still, but when Roy looked closer he could see a continuous stream of minute tremors shaking across Al’s entire frame.

“Alphonse?” No response.

The boy showed no sign of hearing Roy, concerning him further still.

“Alphonse, are you alright?” Still nothing.

Roy reached his arm forward to try and shake Al out of his stupor. His action didn’t get very far, however, as Alphonse immediately recoiled and wrapped his arms around himself, grabbing his wounded shoulder protectively with his expression sort of - empty, but his eyebrows were drawn together, as if in great pain. “

Alphonse?” He tried again, alarm bells ringing as the boy stood prone, quivering like a fucking leaf and _Christ_ , Roy could _hear_ the paranoia in every single breath, his eyes squeezed shut and his lip trembling.

This was _not_ good.

“Sir, he’s having a panic attack.” Riza supplied and that was all the confirmation Roy needed before he was guiding Alphonse’s form gently to the ground so that if he fainted he wouldn’t fall, crouching down next to him.

Roy tentatively put an arm around him, feeling his erratically shallow breathing as the boy kept his eyes closed tight.

“Alphonse, telling you to calm down is probably not helpful, but just try and breathe a bit deeper?”He tried, keeping his voice calm as the rest of his team stood around them protectively.

Alphonse gave a little wail of discomfort as he wrenched himself from Roy’s grip, before expelling the contents of his stomach onto the floor behind them.

Right, vomit.

He could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was the way the younger male curled up into foetal position and shook, right there, on the floor of the courthouse and Roy was starting to realise how much weight Al had put on this trial.

He hadn’t seen his brother in _weeks_ , now, and though he’d acted fine on the surface, it wasn’t hard to see that Alphonse was crumbling under the situation and now something had gone wrong, he’d _snapped_.

Roy knew that the Elric brothers had a close relationship; Alphonse was Edward’s right hand man and vise versa. But now, seeing the younger brother crumpled on the floor weeping, missing his brother _sorely_ , Roy would say it was almost as if Alphonse had lost a good third of himself the day Edward was taken.

66.6% of Alphonse was still having a panic attack.

Right.

“Hawkeye, go see if you can find some towels, please. Alphonse, I’m going to need you to calm down. Like I said before, it’s most definitely not helpful but- whatever is going on in that big brain of yours, shut it up. You’re quite rightly jumping to horrible conclusions about the well-being of your brother right now, and I don’t blame you. But, you need to understand that this was an honest mistake. We are going to head back to my home and assess the situation, and then we will head to Gröhm’s. Would you like to come with?”

Throughout his calm explanation, the glazed look in Alphonse’s eyes had gone a little and his crying had subsided. He was still violently shaking and had a small case of hiccups, but for the most part he now just looked exhausted.

He cleared his throat (it was probably dry from vomiting) and managed a shaky “Yes, sorry Colonel.”

Roy nodded, and let the younger brother stay on the floor for a while longer, until after Hawkeye came back with a wad of paper towels. He looked as if he’d faint if he stood up to fast.

Finally, after Alphonse had fully calmed down, Roy reached a hand out to help him up, letting Al lean his meagre weight against him, even as the boy protested.

“It’ll be fine, Alphonse. It will all be fine. We’ll see Edward very soon, don’t you worry.”

Roy Mustang was a liar.

 

* * *

 

 

Where the _hell_ was Roy’s paper?

He had asked Fury what must have been half an hour ago now, and Roy _knew_ that it barely took half the time to simply pop down the road and pay the mandatory three hundred cenz for the daily newspaper. The man had better have a damn good excuse for his tardiness.

“Ughhh…” Roy groaned at the thought that he might actually have to do _work_ without the excuse of his morning routine of catching up on the day’s events. Well, yesterday's.

As he sat there, waiting, Roy let his mind drift back to the previous few days. Ed’s trial had been a certified disaster and had undoubtedly made Alphonse regress into an even _more_ constant state of panic. The boy hadn't had anymore attacks, thankfully, but Roy hadn't noticed him getting any better either. He was worried about Alphonse before, but now the feelings of concern were overwhelming. He had to remember, it wasn’t just Ed in trouble now, Roy had to make sure that All wasn't about to lose himself to this. The same went for his team.

Speaking of subordinates…

Just as he started getting actually _concerned_ for Fury, Roy heard the door to the team office slam its way open even all the way from his own enclosed room. He wiped a bare hand down his face, what was going on _now?_

“Sir, Sir!” Roy’s youngest subordinate's voice easily drifted through the closed door of his office- okay, not so closed, anymore. The man ‘ _respectfully_ ’ barged into the room without Roy’s permission with an expression of pure distress so completely entangled with his features and Roy swore he had never seen the gentle man like that before.

“What is it, Fury? What happened, tell me now.”

Said man was already halfway out of the door, “Come look, Sir!”

Without so much as a half hearted grumble, Roy was hot on Fury’s heels, following him for a short distance until they reached the collection of desks in the middle of the room.

Lying deceptively innocently on the surface of the table was the newspaper Roy had requested earlier. Instead of reaching for it, however, he just stared at it, his eyes glued to the front headline.

No, _no_.

He extended his arm past his other team members, ignoring them completely and gingerly picked up the paper, in fear it might disappear from his grasp. The fingers of his other hand traced the words, burning them into his memory.

_‘Former Fullmetal Alchemist pleads guilty - he was never to be trusted.’_

What the _fuck._

Roy told himself to keep reading, that it was probably a joke, a prank - they had got it wrong, they were just a stupid editing company, it didn’t -

Who was he kidding, Roy couldn't even convince _himself_. He kept reading though, just in case.

_‘The ex state Alchemist, Edward Elric (18), who was previously convicted of having affiliations with the criminal known as ‘Father’ has been found guilty….after the trial held on the 27th May….The Fullmetal Alchemist himself plead guilty to the allegations…..now believed to be transferred from police custody into a military prison, to serve a life sentence.’_

_No no no no,_ this could _not_ be happening. None of this made any _sense_ … the date must have been correct then. Otherwise, there would not have been enough time for this to have been confirmed. But, no. Roy knew the date had to have been wrong, Ed was _not_ there. Meaning that there hadn't been a trial?

So then… What the fuck?

For real this time, _what the fuck?_


	8. Chapter 8

We haven't updated in a while (we're very sorry about that by the way) and we both have exam season now so we won't be updating in the near future either. That doesn't mean we're abandoning it though, this is our BABY so expect us to continue around mid to late June.

Thank you all for being so patient! x


End file.
